


(I am a Man of) Constant Sorrow

by seanchaidh



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 64,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seanchaidh/pseuds/seanchaidh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a reality where the Narada destroys both Vulcan and Earth, the Enterprise is engaged in securing the Federation's borders and rebuilding from within.  For Leonard McCoy, it's the end of life as he knows it, and for Jim Kirk, every small victory matters -- especially where Bones is concerned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sternel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternel/gifts), [canistakahari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/gifts), [kronos999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronos999/gifts).



Prologue

Jim Kirk might have been a fresh-faced farm boy (isn't that a joke) when he joined Starfleet at the age of twenty-two, but he wasn't naive. With Riverside being home to the 'fleet's ship yards, there were aliens who worked and lived nearby, and sometimes frequented the same bars. It was true there weren't many. Even at the Academy, the ratio of humans to other species was pretty high, but there were constant recruitment attempts on the other member planets to raise the numbers.

Vulcans were the rarest of the rare. Until he met Commander Spock during his academic hearing, Jim hadn't seen a single one outside of historical videos. Few of his fellow cadets had, for that matter. The Federation's fourth founding race didn't have much use for Starfleet, which made the distress call a bit of an irony before they knew what was going on. Vulcans didn't have the best of reputations, either, dating back seventy years when they had held humans back from going faster than warp four. They were admired for their logic but disliked for their condescending attitude toward Earthers.

Spock fit the stereotype too well. Tall, dismissive and no sense of humor. He'd had the gall to remind Jim what happened when fate caught up to starship captains, as if Jim hadn't known that his entire life. He wished the hearing hadn't been interrupted, because he'd have loved to finish what he started and tear the Vulcan down a notch or three.

Instead, thanks to his best friend, he was sitting on a shuttlecraft feeling like he was dying.

"I may throw up on you," he said to Bones, echoing their first meeting and feeling very much resentful their places had changed. He sulked in his seat, trying to keep his lunch down, and wondered what he was supposed to do when he stopped feeling like shit. Hide in medical for the rest of the trip? Or was he supposed to skulk around the Enterprise for the entire tour of duty while keeping out of Spock's sights? It wasn't like Pike would be happy to see him, either.

As it turned out, he wouldn't have to worry about that problem after all.

*

Spock kept talking over him, and it was really beginning to piss Jim off.

It was a like a real-life version of the Kobayashi Maru test: six Starfleet ships destroyed, Vulcan consumed by a black hole, Captain Pike missing, and an acting captain who wouldn't listen to what his first officer was saying. The Romulans were setting up another trap; it was so clear Jim couldn't believe no one else could see it. He leaned against the rail, watching as Bones' brain melted at the theoretical physics over the talk of alternate realities, and realized the time for talking was over. They needed to act, it had to be unconventional, and they needed to do it now.

The only hitch in the plan was that Spock refused to listen to him, and shut down every suggestion before Jim could fully voice it. For a man who'd seen his home planet destroyed, Spock was too rational but he was still being obtuse about what needed to be done. He was fixated on rendezvousing with the alpha fleet in the Laurentian system so they could lick their wounds. It was the worst thing they could do.

"Spock, don't do that," Jim protested loudly as the order was given. He felt like he was repeating himself, but he'd say it again and again until he was heard. "Running back to the rest of the fleet for a confab is a massive waste of time!"

Sitting in the captain's chair, Spock looked up at him as if he were bored of the conversation. "Those were the orders given by Captain Pike when he left the ship."

"He also ordered us to come back and get him," Jim shot back. "Spock, you're the captain now. You have to--"

"I am aware of my responsibilities, Mister." For the first time, there was a glimmer of emotion beneath the stoney facade. Spock was beginning to get irritated, and that was more than he'd shown at the hearing. Then again, he'd just lost his home planet to a black hole, so it would figure it would affect him _somehow_.

Jim pressed on what he hoped was an advantage. "Every second we waste, Nero's getting closer to his next target."

"That is correct, and I am instructing you to understand that I alone am in command."

The bastard didn't deserve it, and not for the first time, he wished Pike hadn't fucked off to meet Nero in what they knew was a trap. Jim's hands hurt from clenching his fists, but he was trying so hard not to lose his temper or throw a punch. He was the better man. "I will _not_ allow us to go backwards --"

Now Bones was stepping in, adding his own voice to the mix and trying to talk Jim down. Damn him, why was he siding with the Vulcan? Couldn't he, of all people, see how Spock was wrong? Jim pitched his voice to shout over them both. "--instead of hunting Nero down!"

Spock shot to his feet, a dangerous glint in his eye, and Jim got the sense for just a second Spock might have preferred nothing else in the universe than to ignore Pike's last order and to do just that. Maybe he needed to appeal to that, to draw him out and to somehow crack the veneer of logic masking Spock's emotions. His rising hope died a heartbeat later as the calculated tone resumed. "Security, take him to the brig."

That wasn't what he expected to hear, and Jim blinked, realizing the entire bridge was staring at them in varying states of dismay. He glanced at Uhura for a moment, but there was something off about her expression that he was sure he didn't understand. As the security guards took hold of Jim's upper arms, he looked for Bones, still standing on the other side of the command chair, and saw the look of disappointment on his face.

That was like a slap to the face, and enough to quell the rebellion stirring in his gut. Although he would've preferred to haul off and fight the guards like his Iowa days, he allowed them to manhandle him toward the turbolift as embarrassment coloured his cheeks.

He left the bridge without another word, and feared for the worst.

*

The brig cell was as clean and bright as the rest of the ship, but the bunks weren't meant for comfort. Jim lay back and tried not to think about what was happening as the time passed.

Cupcake was the officer supervising the brig that day, which just figured. He sat at his desk, staring at Jim and letting out the odd chuckle as though he thought this was the funniest development in the universe. Jim gave up glaring at him after the third or fourth incident, and instead focused on the ceiling and its strange lack of features. No tiles or divets, just smooth metal overhead.

After a few hours, he began to wish he had a padd to keep his mind occupied.

"Do you want a harmonica?"

Jim smiled at Bones' voice and quipped, "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen."

"You’re not getting a ‘Glory Hallelujah’ from me,” Bones said, stepping in. "Look, Newman, give me a few minutes with him. I promise I won't break him out."

So Cupcake had a real name; unlike his dogged pursuit of Uhura's elusive first name, Jim hadn't bothered to get to know the burly cadet since that first bar fight in Iowa. He was surprised there was grunted assent, and when he heard the doors to the brig open and shut, Jim finally looked over. Bones was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and damn, he was looking anxious with dark shadows under his eyes.

"I won't joke about conjugal visits," Jim said. "What's going on, or do I want to know?"

"We're still on red alert," Bones said, and didn't even react to Jim's weak joke. The strain was evident in his voice as he spoke. "We're also on battle status. From what I was told, the Enterprise established contact with the fleet and they've been updated on what's happened to Vulcan. We're rendezvousing with them within the hour."

"Then shouldn't you be getting Sickbay ready?" Jim asked.

"Already done," Bones said, but then he faltered and stared at his boots for a long moment. From the motion of his throat, he was trying to force words out past the panic that was building in his chest, and he wasn't willing to let the emotions out yet. "Jim, we've lost contact with Earth."

The news made Jim's gut twist into new knots, and he understood the fear in Bones' eyes. He was thinking about his daughter, and how the safety of home was anything but that at the moment. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Bones murmured, and when he looked up, every emotion he was feeling was visible in his hazel eyes. "Damn it, Jim, I'm sorry I didn't back you up on the bridge."

Feeling his lips form into a wry smile, Jim shrugged. "Hasn't been my day, I guess."

"Then it's a good thing you don't believe in no-win situations," Bones said, "because the day sure as hell isn't over yet."

It should've been reassuring. Jim knew how much Bones relied on that admittedly arrogant confidence, and how it had helped him overcome his own aviaphobia. He wanted to draw strength on his faith, but behind bars – or at least transparent aluminium – all Jim could do was snort his derision. "Yeah, I'm a fat lot of good stuck in here."

"I'll see what I can do," Bones said.

"Oh?" Jim raised his eyebrows.

"I'll go up there and argue for your release," Bones said. "I'm Acting CMO, after all. That's got to mean something in the grand scheme of things."

That his friend might've earned a field promotion hadn't occurred to Jim. When they were in Sickbay, they were too overwhelmed by disoriented and panicked Vulcans for him to understand the full scope of the damage sustained to the medical bays in that first attack, and he'd never had a chance to read any of the status reports before being hauled to the brig.

"Nice," Jim said, nodding briefly and not dwelling on what the promotion actually meant. "That might not be the best move, though. If Spock's still pissed off at me, and I'm certain he is, there might be better things to suggest."

"Whatever you think will work," Bones said. "Tell me what you'd do, and I'll go argue for it."

"Okay." Getting to his feet, Jim paced as he contemplated the situation. "So if we're rendezvousing with the fleet, as you said, Spock and the other captains are going to hash out a tactic that they're going to implement. Our fleet at Vulcan looked like they tried to engage Nero directly in orbit, so instead what's probably going to happen is that they're going to drop out of warp near Mars so they can approach on impulse and attack Nero that way. The only thing that'll do is draw out the slaughter."

"And we'll still lose Earth in the process," Bones finished, and moved to press up against the transparent barrier. If they weren't separated, Jim would've offered him a hug, in the spirit of shoring up their mutual defences against what was coming. Instead, Bones held up his hand, fingers spread, and Jim stepped over to mirror the motion. "We can't let it happen again, Jim. Not to Earth."

"We won't," Jim promised.

"Then I can't believe I'm saying this," Bones said, with a smile that was a ghost of its normal self and with only a glimmer of hopeful humour, "but what would Jim Kirk do? Short of reprogramming the computers, that is."

"Well," Jim began, and tried for a calm voice and a clear mind as he thought about how he would direct the ship if he were in the captain's chair. He also tried to do it with a level head, and shoved his resentment aside all over again. It wasn't easy with the dearth of tactical information, but a plausible solution came to mind a few moments later. "I'd need input from the helm on the precise way this would happen, but that's not a big problem right now. The gist of it is this..."

He sketched out the details, while Bones listened intently. He had his brows furrowed, repeating the cogent details like he was cramming for his Starfleet basics midterm. It wasn't perfect, but by the time Bones left a few minutes later, Jim was satisfied that he would deliver his plan coherently.

Time passed again, and he wasn't surprised when no one came back for him.

He could only imagine what was happening up on the bridge, and wished he were there to press for the action they needed to take. It wasn't hard to picture what was probably happening as the Enterprise headed for Earth with the fleet in tow, and though he had no idea if Bones had sold his plan to Spock, he really hoped he had.

When the battle began, he pressed himself up against the back of the bunk and clutched the edges as the ship was tossed about. Across the room, he saw Cupcake trying to anchor himself to the desk with white-knuckled intensity. Not really wanting to engage in conversation at the moment, even to help with his nerves, Jim closed his eyes and found himself murmuring what might have been nonsensical nothings under his breath. He tried not to focus on the words, but was aware of his intention: "We need to win. We have to win. Bones needs to see his kid again, and we need to go home again."

Maybe someone was listening.

He wasn't sure when the Enterprise stopped shaking, but he allowed himself to uncurl his fingers from the frame – but slowly, just in case it began again. He saw Cupcake doing the same, so he got to his feet and went to the cell door.

"Find out what's happening," he called.

Cupcake glowered. "You're not in any position to make demands, pumpkin."

Jim rolled his eyes to cover his exasperation. "You don't need to be a prick about it, Cupcake, but seriously, call the bridge and found out what just happened."

The guard looked like he was thinking up a zinger of a reply, but the ship-wide intercom interrupted whatever he was going to say. The screens near his desk activated as the speakers turned on, but instead of Chekov's earnest and calm announcement what felt like days ago, Captain Spock's appearance was anything but that. He looked dishelleved compared to his normal self, and a part of Jim's mind noticed that he hadn't changed from his science-blue overshirt yet. Behind him, the bridge was swarming with activity and every visible panel was covered with red lights. To the casual eye, Spock was wearing his Vulcan mask but Jim thought he saw a careful numbness informing his expression as he stared at the camera.

That, more than anything, made his gut sink.

"This is Acting Captain Spock," he began. "I am cancelling battlestations but continuing the red alert. The Romulan ship has been neutralized, but I regret to inform all crewmembers that the planet Earth has suffered the same fate as Vulcan. I am ordering the Enterprise to return to search for survivors. I will require the entire crew to stand by to perform any and all duties required. In the absence of Starfleet Headquarters, Commodore Garth of the Defiant is in command. As the situation progresses, I will update you. Spock out."

There was a numb sensation in the centre of Jim's chest, and he could only stare across the brig to meet Cupcake's stunned face, all traces of his earlier antagonism gone. Cupcake ran a hand over his balding head and blinked away sudden tears. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," Jim echoed faintly.

Cupcake sat heavily in his chair. "Mom, Dad, my kid brothers..."

Murmuring some kind of condolence, Jim wandered back to the bunk and thought of what he'd never see again. The family farm, Frank (and yeah, Jim felt bad about that), the few buddies he had at home, the contents of his dorm room, the Academy, his favourite haunts around San Francisco, and a bright, hazel-eyed girl living in Georgia who'd just wanted her daddy to come back home.

*

In the days that followed, Jim couldn't help feeling like he was sleepwalking through a nightmare and unable to wake up.

On the bright side, he was out of the brig. With every available personnel needed to mitigate the effects of the disaster, Spock had allowed Jim's release in order to assign him to recovery detail. He also had strict orders to avoid the bridge under the threat of being marooned on the nearest planetary body. That suited Jim fine, though he found himself resenting the Vulcan more and more as he moved through the ship and helped where he could. Even fewer Earthers had escaped than Vulcans, and it reminded Jim of stories he'd read as a kid about the HMS Titanic: panicked civilians fighting for life boats and pushing the weaker ones away. A few rich families had escaped in their star yachts, but the mass unwashed of Earth had disappeared into the black hole.

Unlike the destruction of Vulcan, Jim had yet to watch the actual footage. He just couldn't stomach it.

He caught glimpses of Bones in all the turmoil, but could never stop long enough to talk. Circumstances wouldn't allow it and it was clear Bones was fixed on professional mode. Each time Jim saw him, he was looking worse and worse. Everyone was rough around the edges and stumbling around in varying stages of grief -- mostly denial though many had progressed to anger -- but he could see that Bones was inches from coming apart at the seams. His expression looked blank, his jaw covered with stubble, and while everyone had dark circles under their eyes from the stress, on Bones it just looked scary. He reminded Jim of the half-crazed man he'd been on the shuttle three years ago, but this time there wasn't anywhere he could go for a clean start.

The same wasn't true for Jim. He'd finishing helping to process the latest group of survivors when Spock called him into a meeting in the captain's ready room. It was the first time they'd spoken since Jim's stay in the brig, as his release had been an order over the intercom. With Captain Pike now officially reported as killed in action, the current fleet commander – Commodore Garth of Izar – had permanently appointed Spock as captain but he'd yet to start wearing the gold tunic. Jim wasn't sure what he thought about that as he stood just inside the door so it could shut behind him.

"You asked for me?" Jim wasn't ready to add the honorific yet, but he kept his tone even.

"Have you rested yet, Mr. Kirk?" Spock asked, and somehow he managed to voice it in a way that didn't sound patronizing. The crisis and the Vulcan's own personal grief seemed to have etched new lines in his face, reminiscent of the elders rescued earlier.

"I'm fine," Jim said, and that much was true. He was still wired for academic life. He was used to late nights spent studying and completing projects, and not to mention partying. There were still miles to go before he needed serious shut-eye.

Spock nodded, and steepled his fingers. "Mr. Kirk, I believe the Earth saying is that our professional relationship has gotten off on the wrong foot."

The comment stunned Jim for a long moment, and he had to blink a few times before he found himself capable of responding. "Wrong foot, huh?"

"I have reviewed my actions from the time I took command of the Enterprise, and I see I made certain decisions that may have detrimentally affected the outcome," the Vulcan continued. "I allowed my reaction to your Koyabashi Maru test to color my perceptions of you, and as such did not listen to your counsel when you were acting as my first officer. Captain Pike had been wise enough to listen to you, and I should have done the same."

"Well." Again, Jim felt stunned by the words. "So you're saying you regret not listening to me."

"Regret is a human emotion." The way Spock said it made it sound like a practised excuse, but Jim remembered their confrontation on the bridge and what he'd seen reflected in the Vulcan's eyes.

"Oh, I think it's more than just a human emotion," Jim said.

A tiny quirk appeared at the corner of Spock's mouth. "Perhaps."

"So you're apologizing."

Spock bowed his head. "I am."

"I see." Jim paused, and realized he needed to continue. He was probably rubbing in the facts, but he had to give voice to the elephant in the room. "You realize that if we'd acted earlier, Earth might still be here."

"I do," Spock said, and his voice sounded quieter. "I have reviewed our situation many times in order to understand where our performance may have been improved, and the thought has certainly occurred to me several times. However, nothing is certain."

"No, nothing is," Jim echoed, and shifted his weight for a moment. "All right, I accept your apology. Is that all? I've got work to get back to."

"I have an offer for you," Spock continued, just as Jim was finishing his phrase. "As I am now the captain, I have promoted Ensign Chekov to science officer, and am in the process of reorganizing the bridge crew. I have yet to find a suitable replacement for tactical. I believe you were the top student in your class, Mr. Kirk, and I would like you to accept the position along with a full promotion to lieutenant commander."

Jim stared at him. "You're offering me a position on the bridge?"

"I am." There was a faint twist to his lips that might've been a smile. "I believe that in another context, we would be able to work well together."

A part of Jim wanted to hesitate and give himself time to consider the opportunity. The truth was that he knew this was the place for him, and he'd like to think that Pike would've wanted to include him on the bridge crew if circumstances had been different. Jim nodded, and extended his hand to Spock's. "I'll take it."

"I am gratified," Spock said, and at least that sounded honest. He shook Jim's hand after a moment's hesitation, and then retreated behind his desk. "And now, I have something else to discuss with you. I have received a letter of resignation from Chief Medical Officer McCoy."

The news didn't surprise him, but it still felt like a stone sinking in his gut. "I didn't know that."

"I have yet to acknowledge his request," Spock admitted, "but I require your insight into the situation. I realize Dr. McCoy is a friend of yours, and while I do not wish to pry, I want your assessment of his mental state. I am aware that he has lost family, and is thus emotionally compromised. However, the condition of his enlistment does not allow me to grant his request, and our current needs in regard to personnel requires every able-bodied person to remain at full strength."

It didn't take a stretch of the imagination to know how Bones was doing. "He lost his daughter. He's taking it especially hard."

"Do you believe his grief would compromise his performance as a physician?" Spock asked.

That was a harder question to answer. "No, he's too much of a professional. He can do his duty, which he's doing right now as we speak. He's coping, but barely. That's what humans do." Until they can't, whispered a worried part of his mind.

"I am aware of that quality," Spock said. "It is, in fact, one of the more reliable traits humanity possesses."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jim said.

"It is intended as such." Spock tapped his fingers on the desktop for a moment. "I have no desire to allow someone as skilled as Leonard McCoy to leave Starfleet, especially at a time such as this, but I do not want to force him to remain. If I permit him several months' leave, do you believe it would suffice?"

That made Jim pause. "Didn't you just say that we can't afford to let people stand down at a time like this?"

"I am quite aware these are extraordinary times," Spock admitted, and there was strain in his voice that came from personal understanding of how extraordinarily shitty everything was. "As captain, it is my prerogative to make exceptions when it may lead to a better functioning crew. That is a logical outcome, and from the last estimate from engineering, we will spend five months in orbit of Centaurus in order to effect repairs. I can spare our chief physician that long."

"So you do have a heart," Jim said, a little drily, but nodded. "It's something, anyway. I'll go tell him, if you don't mind."

This time, Spock looked a little relieved. "Thank you. I will place it in his file, but I do admit, I have not been keen on facing him."

"You're welcome," Jim told him, but there was something about Spock's words that had him wary all over again. The admission of reluctance sounded out of character, if only for the Vulcan profession of not having emotions, but it also made him wonder about what had been said while he was in the brig. He knew what he'd told Bones to say while imploring Spock to change his mind about reuniting with the fleet, but instructions were always open to interpretation and Bones wasn't one to hold his tongue. Whatever he'd said, it couldn't have been too insubordinate because anything otherwise would've had Bones sitting in the brig right next to him. Given the pressure of the moment, and in spite of Bones technically being on Spock's side during that first confrontation on the bridge, Jim wouldn't be surprised if Bones had used some strongly-worded language. "That's also not very logical of you, Captain."

The use of Spock's rank, the first time he'd uttered it aloud, was meant to soften his words into something bordering on a tease. From the faint quirk of his eyebrow that felt something like a shrug, Spock seemed to be taking it that way. "Vulcans are far from perfect, Commander."

"Not that different from humans, then," Jim said, and took that as his cue to leave.

Delivering Spock's news, however, proved to be easier said than done. It was probably just a coincidence, but Bones seemed to be making himself scarce. There was a legitimate medical emergency the first time Jim stopped into Sickbay, where Bones was in surgery, but the next two times, he was apparently off-site dealing with more of the wounded. When he stopped by the fourth time, he found himself pulled into the nearest storage closet by Nurse Chapel. They'd been introduced earlier when she'd wrapped Jim's injured hand from taking out the Narada's drill, and she'd responded to his tamed-down flirtation by delivering a hypo that would've made Bones proud.

"He's still out," she said right off the bat, cutting off any of Jim's temptations to make off-coloured jokes. "I need your help, Kirk. It's about Dr. McCoy. I know you two are friends."

"Is he okay?" For several long moments, Jim imagined something horrible happening – a control panel somewhere shorting out when Bones was nearby, a toxic chemical leak, or the worst of Bones' nightmares, a hull breach. At least, it was his worst nightmare until today.

She snorted. "Is anyone right now?"

"Fair, but you know what I mean," Jim said.

"He's taking it harder than most," she finally admitted, arms crossed over her rumpled white tunic. "You need to get him out of medical for his own good."

Pulling a resisting Bones from Sickbay where he had easy access to any number of hypos only meant bad things in Jim Kirk's book, and he shook his head. "The man's my best friend, but I don't come between him and his job. I don't have a death wish."

"Then let me put it this way," Chapel told him, her voice soft but firm. "We've had a rota for taking breaks since the initial influx of patients died down, and most of us have had periodic breaks. He hasn't. We've all lost someone today, Mr. Kirk. My fiance, Roger, was at the Starfleet technology research centre in Tokyo. I understand the appeal of working to avoid your grief all too well, but Leonard's got to stop and get some rest. He's making a martyr of himself, and that's the last thing we need right now."

Jim murmured a condolence at her words, and let out a soft sigh. "All right, but only if you've got a hypo ready for me to use."

He meant it as a joke, but it fell flat as Chapel wordlessly handed over a filled hypospray. "It's yours."

"Holy shit," Jim breathed, staring at the tool in his head. "You're serious? What's in here?"

"Enough sedative to knock out a very stubborn physician," she said, and pulled out a second from the same pocket. "I'll watch your six when you confront him."

"This is called mutiny in my stream at the Academy," Jim said, and glanced at the closed door and wondering how much of their conversation could be overheard in the main part of Sickbay. A second later, he realized that the other personnel were probably playing interference for Chapel while she orchestrated her intervention.

"Shut up and do it," she ordered, but there was little heat in her words. "He'll be back by now."

Slipping the hypo into his waistband and making sure he pulled down his black shirt to cover it, Jim cleared his throat and aimed for nonchalance before heading back into Sickbay. There wasn't anyone around his immediately vicinity except for Chapel, which only confirmed his suspicion. It took a few minutes to actually find Bones, and he finally located him in another ward where he was overseeing a patient. Jim waited until they were through, and then slipped in next to him.

"Got a moment?" he asked quietly.

Bones might have startled a bit, but after that first reaction, didn't look at him. "So Spock let you out finally."

"Yeah, a while ago," Jim said, eyebrows going up. "I saw you about hours ago on deck seven, and you actually said something to me. You don't remember that?"

Bones fixed him with a stare made darker by the circles under his eyes. "I had more important things to consider. It's kind of busy around here, or haven't _you_ noticed?"

"I know." Jim waited a second, and noticed the furtive glances that Bones' assistant and the other medical staff were sending his way. Chapel probably was waiting for him to get on with it as she kept her own expression perfectly neutral. He made sure he kept his voice low. "Look, I have the feeling you've been relieved of duty, probably a while ago."

"And I told them no."

"Fine, but I'm off-duty right now," Jim lied, "and I need my doctor to have a look at me."

If Jim had learned anything about Leonard McCoy in the last three years, it was that he could defuse any tension by appealing to his friend's overdeveloped need to take care of others. Bones huffed a sigh, and gestured to the nearest biobed on the other side of the room. "Then take a seat."

Jim shook his head. "Not in here, it's too crowded."

"That would be a first," Bones said, but the snark he managed sounded weak. "My office?"

"No, but maybe the quarters you were assigned to?" Jim faked a yawn, and then regretted it because it came out feeling way too real. His vision blurred for a second with fatigue until he blinked it away. "I should get some rest but I can't see myself falling asleep on my own, you know?"

A faint excuse for a smile appeared on Bones' face. "Okay."

"Yeah?" This was going to be easy, Jim hoped. Just hopefully not _too_ easy.

"Let me go get a sedative," Bones said, but stopped as Chapel promptly handed over the one she'd shown Jim just minutes earlier. Bones looked at her suspiciously, scowling. "Isn't there somewhere else you should be instead of dogging my footsteps, Nurse?"

The comment didn't even faze her. "Just doing my duty, Doctor."

"Carry on," he muttered, and gestured for Jim to lead the way.

There was an obstacle in carrying out his assignment. The billet that the quartermaster had originally assigned to Bones had suffered damage in the same torpedo strike that had wrought havoc in Sickbay, and the rooms were now cordoned off. Bones stared at the blackened door for too many moments before turning a stunned gaze to Jim. "I guess this won't work."

"What about the CMO's quarters?" Jim suggested, desperate to move away from the area.

Bones agreed, but then he wasn't sure where it was located. A quick check with the computer, another ride in the 'lift, and they were in front of the door marked SAGUN PURI, M.D. To their combined surprise, the door opened when Bones keyed in his code. The lights flickered on, and the first thing Jim saw was boxes full of the late Dr. Puri's belongings. The man had never had time to unpack before their launch. Bones walked past them into the living area and raised his right eyebrow. The expression was so _normal_ , Jim almost forgot his purpose for luring Bones here.

"Well?" Bones held up his scanner, and then frowned as he realized something. "You're wearing gold."

"Yup, Spock accepted me back into the fold," Jim said. "I'm on the bridge crew and everything. It's surreal."

Bones' mouth twisted at the corner. "Then take off your damn shirt."

Remembering only at the last second about the hypo stashed in his clothes, Jim managed to hide it in his shirt as he bared his bruised torso to Bones' scrutiny. "I think the worst of it is healing."

"I'll be the judge of that," Bones muttered, the scanner whirring next to Jim's chest and head. "You look like shit, Jim."

"No, I just feel like crap," Jim said. "You, however, look like shit."

The scanning continued even as Bones glanced up at him with narrowed eyes. "Tell someone who has the time to care."

"I guess that's me, then. Good thing I noticed." Jim paused, and then softly offered, "I'm so sorry, Bones."

The tricorder wavered in Bones' usually steady hands, and he was pretending he hadn't heard as he fixed his gaze firmly on the screen. "Everything looks like it's healing the way it should, which is one good piece of news. You just need to get some rest."

"Only if you do, too," Jim told him.

Closing his equipment with a sound that sounded final, Bones shook his head. "I can't."

"Yeah, I know, you're busy, but seriously, Chapel told me they can spare you for a bit," Jim said. "Like I said, you're off-duty now. The worst is over."

Bones snorted, glancing up with a expression that was a strange mix of fond exasperation and sheer exhaustion. "You don't get it."

"Then explain it to me," Jim said, and kept his tone gentle. "It's just the two of us here. Jim and Bones. You know you can tell me anything. I'm listening."

Whether it was the difficulty of finding words past his exhaustion or trying to express something incredibly difficult to voice, it took Bones several moments to speak. His gaze dropped back to the carpeted deck as he struggled. "I know myself, Jim. If I stop right now, I won't start again. That'll be it. If I can keep on going until we're docked, then I know it's safe to go."

There was a chill down Jim's spine as he listened. "What do you mean?"

"This isn't for me," Bones said, and he sounded close to tears. "Damn it, I'm a doctor, not a soldier. I can't do this again, and why should I? I did this for her, Jim, for my little girl because there was something more I could be doing while I couldn't be with her. I thought, hey, maybe I could make the universe a better place. You know what? It wasn't fucking worth it. Here I am, up in the black, and she's _gone_. The entire goddamn planet is gone, and here I am and I won't do it anymore. I'm resigning my commission."

He finished and sank down on the settee, staring at his hands. Jim felt at a loss for what to do next, and so after pulling on his shirt again and cramming the hypo between the cushions, he sat next to him and put an arm around his friend's shoulders. A moment later, he felt Bones lean against him with an aching sigh. That had to be something good, Jim hoped.

"You can't just walk away," Jim said to him. "We both owe five years' service."

"I haven't graduated yet," Bones said after a pause. "I'll just drop out."

"I don't know if it's as easy as that." Jim thought of the battlefield promotion to CMO, and how that was half of his dream of them being in space. He tilted his head to look down at Bones' face, wishing he could do something to make it better, somehow. "There's always something you can do without needing to leave Starfleet. We still have starbases out there, and somehow we've got to rebuild all over again. Anyway, Spock's going to reject your application, but he'll give you a leave of absence."

Bones shook his head. "I didn't ask for a leave of absence. It means I have to goddamn come back."

"After five months," Jim told him. "You can't just walk away from this, Bones. You know you can't."

"I can damn well try," Bones said, and when he looked back at Jim, his eyes were looking wild. For a moment, it was like stepping back three years to the first time they met when a panicked Bones had just been evicted from the shuttle's restroom. "Why are you being so stubborn about this?"

"Because I don't want you in the brig, or worse, a prison colony?" Jim shook his head, not quite believing he was having this conversation. "Take the leave of absence, Bones. Go out and do what you need to do, but when those five months are up, you need to be back here. The ship needs you, and I sure as hell need you."

He felt the snort through the fabric of his shirt, although the corners of Bones' mouth were lifting into something that might've been a smile. "You need a babysitter."

"I've got one already. Tall, dark, and Southern, you might know him," Jim teased gently, and rested his cheek on top of Bones' head. His breath disturbed the shorter hairs that stuck up in a stubborn cowlick, untamed from their usual style. "Listen, now isn't the time to make any decisions. This is a time for everyone to stop, mourn and regroup. That includes you. Make your decision later. Right now, you've got to rest."

"Don't want to," Bones said, and it had an uncharacteristic edge of petulance that melted away a moment later. The fight seemed to go out of him, too. "I still haven't watched it, you know. A part of me wants to believe that as long as I haven't seen it happen, it's not real."

"I know," Jim murmured, because at least that much they still had in common. He wanted to say more, but his stomach betrayed him with a growl of hunger.

“Idiot,” Bones said, wiping at his face and sitting up. “I bet you haven’t eaten anything substantial either.”

“Just a few ration bars,” Jim admitted. “It’s not like there’s been much time to sit down for a real meal.”

Bones muttered something about pots and kettles as he moved across the room to the small food dispenser. The bluster was a show, trying to push the grief away again, but Jim let it be for the moment. If that’s what Bones needed to cope, then he’d play along. Instead, he noticed a box among Puri’s belongings labelled “bottles” that seemed promising, and a cursory investigation revealed several bottles of alcohol. The late CMO had good taste, that much Jim could tell from a glance, and he pulled out a bottle of Saurian brandy that appeared to be a good vintage to Jim’s inexperienced eye.

"What's that?" Bones asked, giving him an uneasy glance as he brought sandwiches to the table. Resources were being rationed, so it wasn't probably wasn't possible to get anything fancier, but it was better than the regular rations and the low fuss suited the mood at the moment.

"My contribution to the meal," Jim said, and while Bones had a nervous twist to his lips, he accepted the open bottle with a curt nod.

They drank from the top because there weren't any glasses evident in the vicinity, and Jim wasn't eager to go through more boxes. They didn't toast either, though Jim thought about all those they'd lost in the last twenty-four hours, and ate in relative silence. Jim kept an eye on Bones, who was looking less grey but a good meal wasn’t going to do much for the circles under his eyes.

Jim thought briefly about the hypo, but left it hidden for the time being.

They migrated to the sofa again when the meal was done, leaving the dishes in place to be bothered with later. Jim brought the bottle with him, and they sat side by side passing the drink between them when needed. Despite the circumstances, this was still familiar and comfortable, and Jim found himself leaning against Bones' side; he was long past feeling the warm well-being that came from a good drink, but not enough to avoid feeling the quiet starting to weight down on them.

"So now what?" Jim finally asked.

Bones took the bottle back and took a long pull. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

At his tone of voice, Jim felt his heart ache again, and he reached out to grasp Bones' hand. If the situation were reversed, it would be Bones doing his best to ease the situation and to take care of Jim when things were going wrong. This situation felt insurmountable. It probably was, but Jim still felt compelled to offer something of a similar comfort, even though he was way out of his depth.

"Let me take care of you," Jim murmured, before pressing his lips to Bones' knuckles.

Bones looked at him with wide eyes, but he wasn't saying no. He wasn't saying anything else, either, but Jim leaned forward anyway and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed for comfort, and just like those other times it was the sudden need for more than just simple contact. They’d also been not entirely sober those times either, and Jim didn’t pay much attention to anything but the desire to slip his hands up under Bones’ shirts – the skin warm and alive despite everything else they’d underwent in the last thirty-odd hours – drove him on.

At first Bones wasn't responding, but after several heartbeats he was giving as good as he was getting. His hands were tugging at Jim's shirts, and it said something that he wasn't completely careful with the bruises on Jim's side. Given the circumstances, Jim wasn't about to complain, and it wasn't long before he found himself lying over Bones on the settee and staring into widely dilated hazel eyes.

They'd had better sex, but under the circumstances, it was pretty nice. The best thing about fucking for comfort, at least in Jim’s book, was the unspoken agreement that this wasn’t supposed to have any strings attached or expectations about the other. The one exception might be that they’d go on being the same good friends they were before their first fuck. Jim liked their connection, how easy it was to please Bones in bed, and not to mention how good it felt when he pushed himself into Bones’ warmth.

But this time, warned a little voice in the back of Jim’s mind that he wanted to ignore, might be different.

Caught in the moment, he lost track of who was unbuttoning what, and focused instead of having a handful of their cocks. Bones was mouthing at his jawline, eyes squeezed shut and moaning as his hands grasped at Jim's shirt and at the sofa. It felt good, and in concentrating on that, Jim willed himself to forget everything around them except for the pleasure of the man he was with.

They didn't come together, but then again, they never did. Jim came first, and kept the presence of mind to stroke Bones to completion. Still panting from the exertion, Jim settled down on Bones to nose at his throat and finding himself dwelling on the racing pulse beneath his lips. He could feel Bones easing down from his own orgasm, and although Jim knew it was probably a good idea to go clean up his hand and their cocks, he wasn't ready to move yet.

He wasn't quite convinced he'd come back to find Bones still there.

The thought chilled him, and he pressed himself closer to Bones in a way he'd never done before. He smoothed an anxious hand against Bones' arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Bones said, and even though it sounded like a lie, Jim let it be.

When he thought he felt Bones dozing off, Jim carefully pulled himself away in order to find a washcloth. He paused while cleaning Bones off, noting how even in exhausted slumber, the shadows weren't fading from his face. This small moment of comfort wasn't going to be enough. Jim wasn't fooling himself into thinking this would fix anything, but he hoped it could at least be the start of something more.

After another quick rummage through the boxes, Jim found a blanket that he draped over Bones' body, and then he tiptoed over to the comm unit. "Kirk to Nurse Chapel."

She responded almost immediately. "Chapel here. This better be good news, Kirk."

"Mission accomplished," Jim said. "He's out like a light, and I didn't even need the hypo."

"That's good," she replied, "and that order extends to you, too. I've reported you as being off duty. Get some sleep, Lieutenant."

The use of a rank he hadn't officially received surprised Jim, and he found it eased some of the resentment he still felt over the handling of the entire mission. It wasn't anything compared to two lost planets and a devastated best friend, but for his own wounded self, it was a small panacea. Jim found himself smiling as he bid her good night, and returned to the settee to burrow in next to Bones. For the next few hours, at least, he could escape.

*

Jim wasn't surprised to wake up and find Bones gone. He wanted to find him, but events conspired against him. The last-minute preparations for the ship's repairs kept Jim occupied until the moment they reached the primitive-looking drydock in orbit around Centaurus.

Despite the details of his duties, Jim couldn't help flashing back and seeing Bones' face. It reminded him in a cold chill of realization that his expression mirrored the few pictures taken from Jim's childhood, with his own mother still in the depths of grief while stubbornly hanging on for her boys. There was a mirroring of that look in Bones, even when he'd smiled, and it left Jim feeling desperate to escape the bridge and find him before it was too late.

What he found instead was a note:

_Jim,_

_Thank you for caring for me last night, but I need you to trust me. You need to let me go, and trust that one day, I'll come back. It can't be before I'm ready, and neither of us are prescient so I can't tell you when that'll goddamn be. Might take those five months, might take longer than that. Just know that you've been a very good friend, and possibly the best I've ever had. Stay safe out there, and have a drink for me from time to time._

_Yours,_

_Bones._

*

It wasn't what he wanted, but for the first time since the shuttle ride three years ago to San Francisco, Jim had never felt so alone.


	2. The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten months can feel like ten years when you're trying to put your universe back in order again.

**Part One**

 

"Here we go again," Jim sighed, tugging on his gold tunic before beginning what was promising to be another draining town hall meeting. With the introduction from the colony's administrator over, he stepped forward to the podium and took in the gathering of faces in front of him. From a glance, Katimavik's population seemed to be mostly human and consisting of adults in their thirties and forties; there were very few children present and no one elderly, which didn't necessarily mean much all things considered. Each and every face looked wary about why a Starfleet officer was about to address them.

"My name is Commander James Kirk," he began, going for the easy smile that hopefully took the edge off the tension in the room. "I’m the Enterprise’s first officer, and thank you for coming to listen to us today. What I'm about to talk about isn't easy, so what I ask is that you allow me to explain our situation and the proposition I'm about to present to you, and after, there'll be more than ample time to answer your questions."

The process was tested and true, and Jim waited for the audience to nod their agreement before continuing. Though the windows set off to the side, Jim could see the sunshine brilliantly illuminating the terraformed lawn in a scene that could've any place back on Earth. It stung his heart and gave him an idea about how this might play out.

"First of all, I want to thank you for coming out today," he said, delaying just a heartbeat longer. "Now, as most of you have realized, the Federation received a tremendous blow when a rogue Romulan ship destroyed both Vulcan and Earth." There was a murmur that suggested this wasn't news, so Jim let them have a moment to process before continuing. "You may be aware of the news, but what you may not have seen is footage of the actual event."

That was the cue for the playback to begin. Sometime after they'd evacuated their second planet, Jim stopped watching the presentation. He didn't need to sit there and watch his home disappear again; once was enough, and the second time was torture. It just reminded him of everything he'd lost all over again, and it wasn't like he'd forgotten that he was existing without the cornerstone of his life.

So instead, Jim studied the colonists. The further away they were from the centre of the Federation, the news that Earth was gone was still a new shock. Jim began to learn something about the population just from their reaction to the footage. A recently established colony would physically recoil from the sight, and sometimes there were accusations of having fabricated the effect of Earth breaking apart and disappearing into the vortex created by Nero's ship.

On the other hand, a population who'd been away from Earth long enough reacted to the news with the expected empathy that anyone would have in light of a disaster: they'd show empathy but without that visceral reaction that came from having a personal connection. Jim sometimes wondered what they were thinking, and whether anyone was realizing what they would never seen again: friends, family, a favourite place. Often times, colonists had left with the possibility that they'd never go home again, but choosing never to return was another kettle of fish when faced with the reality that home was irrevocably gone.

This time, there were tears along with the gasps, and that fit with the intelligence Jim knew about the colony's history. Most residents were either Earth-born or were educated there, and the majority had only been in the colony for the last two to five years. Jim forced himself to take a deep breath, allowing them another moment to absorb the reality of their situation while glancing at his team. He had a crew of regulars who attended these meetings with him; at first they'd thought that Captain Spock, as a double-planetary orphan, would be a good candidate for these occasions, but his Vulcan upbringing meant it was hard for people to relate to the detached exterior although he felt as strongly as they did about the loss. Instead, Jim had taken up the portfolio, and it was Hikaru Sulu and the new chief medical officer, Rebecca Walker, who were providing the support he needed today.

"I just want to pause for a moment and extend my heart-felt condolences to anyone who has lost loved ones in this disaster," he continued, as the murmurs died down but the sniffling continued. "However, the reality of this situation is that several hard decisions had to be made in regards to the future of the Federation. Two of our core planets are missing, and we also lost a significant number of ours ships. These are the ships that would've brought you new supplies and everything else you cannot produce yourself here on Katimavik. Medication, emergency supplies, and defense. This is a very real problem, ladies and gentlemen, and unfortunately this also means that some drastic changes need to be accomplished in the next few months to compensate for this situation."

He glanced behind him to make sure that the map of Federation space was visible, and cleared his throat. He wished he had some water, but would have to do without. "For the moment, the Romulan and Klingon Empires seem unaware of what has happened. It'll take years for their sensors to realize that our planets are missing, and in an ideal situation, we could leave everything as a status quo. Trade routes can be re-established, and supplies found elsewhere."

But it wasn't an ideal situation. That was the point of the entire endeavour, and Jim drew a steady breath. "The problem lies, however, with the reality that the Klingons especially continually probe the neutral zone for weaknesses. It's only a matter of time before they realize that we've been weakened, and if that happens before we're able to rebuild our defenses, this could mean disaster for everyone involved. We cannot sustain an all-out conflict as we are, and so this means making some important changes, which leads me to the reason why I'm here before you today."

A new graphic appeared, and even before he spoke, Jim knew they'd gathered what he was going to say. From the corner of his eye, he saw the administrator sit up with a gasp. "You can't be suggesting that!"

Jim held up his hand to prevent him from continuing. "Like I said, nothing about this is easy, for anyone. Our chief strategy at the moment is to widen the neutral zone, which unfortunately means including planets that have colonies such as yours. The other reality is that we cannot guarantee providing you with those supplies that you need, or coming to your defense if the Klingons do show up. You currently have two options, ladies and gentlemen. The first is that you can stay here and hold your own with the knowledge that we will not come to your assistance should it be required in the near future. The other option is to relocate your colony."

"Relocate where?" came a shout.

"The option is yours," Jim said. "Some colonies have chosen to join already established colonies, or to some of the existing inner worlds. Centaurus has been named as the new Federation capital, and many people are heading there to re-establish there. The Enterprise has room to take everyone and your cargo, and we'll take you where you'd like to go. Like I said, the decision is yours and only yours. I'm here to provide advice, and to help coordinate whatever needs to happen."

The influx of questions began at that point. They were all questions he'd heard before, about what kinds of resources they might be left with if they chose to stay, whether everyone needed to go to the same destination, if anyone could stay if they so desired. Jim gave each one the consideration it deserved, as though he was answering it for the very first time. To their credit, the population seemed to be leaning toward the evacuation option, and when the administrator interrupted them twenty minutes later with the announcement that a vote would be held, Jim and his team withdrew to go wait outside for the duration.

"Seems like a shame," Walker said once the doors were closed. The atrium they were in gave a good view of the scenery outside, and the work that had gone into making the planet habitable. “This seems like a nice place.”

They all did, and that was the problem. The Federation’s colonization program was strong and well-established, and the type of individuals who were attracted to these worlds was those who wanted challenges and the ability to make a mark on a new world. Jim could relate to that kind of drive on a certain level, but for him, it was the call for exploration that was more of an appeal.

Not that they were doing much exploration these days.

“While they’re talking,” Jim said, “let’s assume they say yes. What are the numbers, Hikaru?”

His mouth a tight line, Hikaru looked up from his tricorder. “I was just doing some quick calculations. To make this a successful evacuation, and based on the population and the amount of room we have on the Enterprise, it’ll take two days to get everything accomplished.”

Taking hold of the tricorder, Jim glanced over the results. Based on the available room on the Enterprise, there was only so many belongings individuals could take with them, and that was also based on how many people there were on the planet’s surface. Another factor mitigating that would be any sensitive materials that a given colony might possess. It wasn’t a precise practice, and every evacuation meant they were getting better at making the process run without a hitch.

“Two days is reasonable,” Walker said, glancing at her own tricorder. “I don’t see a lot of people registered in the medical clinics, so that’s good news. I’ll still be coordinating with their doctors to make sure we bring all the supplies we can.”

“There’s just a small hitch,” Hikaru added, and reached over to his tricorder to switch the screen. “Katimavik’s pretty self-sufficient for food production. One of the emphases when they established the colony was that there’d be enough agriculture so they wouldn’t have to rely on imported foods. We could theoretically bring up a lot of the stored crops, but when it comes to the livestock, we just don’t have the room to accommodate all the heads of cattle they’ve got.”

“That’s going to make people unhappy,” Jim sighed.

“More than the news they’re going to have to leave their homes?” Walker asked. She leaned against the nearest ledge, and shook her head. “I hate that this is our job now. This isn’t why I joined Starfleet.”

“Was it anyone’s?” Hikaru said, the question clearly rhetorical.

“We’re the best there is,” Jim told them, “and the Enterprise is the largest ship in the fleet. We’re needed because we have the room, and because this needs to be done.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, and it certainly wasn’t the first time they’d heard it. He remembered his first evacuation, well over ten months before, and it still made his heart clench. The planet hadn’t been colonized too long, only about fifteen years, but it was long enough that the childhood born there saw it as home. The vote had been close, with barely half of the population deciding that the recording of Earth disappearing – only the second or third time Jim had watched – was enough reason to pull up stakes. The others stayed, after throwing accusations asking why they had to pay for Earth’s demise, and Jim still wondered sometimes how they were doing.

That night he’d gotten drunk in his quarters, trying not to think about it. He’d also taken out his padd and sent a message to Bones. It wasn’t something he did often, because the silence from the other end was almost as painful, but by venting his pain into a letter to his missing friend, he almost felt like the man was there.

And since the messages never bounced, he at least hoped that Bones was listening.

Walker drew his attention as she stood up. “I think they’re coming to get us.”

“That was fast,” Hikaru murmured.

It was, relatively speaking, and Jim turned just in time for the door to open. The administrator emerged, looking shaken to the core, and his eyes were shocked. “The vote has passed. Over eighty percent have agreed to the evacuation. I’m not sure about the other twenty percent, but they might change their minds before we’re gone. At least I hope they will.”

“I’ll go in and answer any other questions they might have,” Jim offered, because that was always expected.

From that point on, removing the settlers from Katimavik was a routine exercise. By this time, he could step back and let his people do their thing. A crew of engineers sent by Chief Schwartzer came down to dismantle the important infrastructure, while the Enterprise’s quartermaster coordinated the transportation of people from the transporter rooms and shuttle bays toward the empty quarters. Jim sent up periodic reports to Captain Spock, letting him know about the estimated time of completion.

Despite the efficiency, these were human beings being torn away from their lives. The farmers were bitter about having to leave their livestock behind, and Jim had already faced two individual men who were shouting at him. The best that could be done was to let them go free, and hope the colony could re-establish itself again when the Federation could expand its borders again.

He felt a tug on his sleeve, and Jim looked down to see a small girl staring up at him with large brown eyes. There were tears on her cheeks, her lower lip trembling, and Jim immediately crouched down to face her. She looked nothing like Joanna, but that’s who Jim couldn’t help seeing.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Commander,” she said in a remarkably steady voice, “my mommy and daddy say I can’t bring Fluffy with me.”

He glanced around and saw two sombre-faced adults watching who had to be the parents. Jim gave them a smile, and then focused on the girl again. “Who’s Fluffy?” he asked.

“My cat,” she said. “She’s not like a cow, you know. They can live in the fields and be all right, but Fluffy needs us to take care of her. I don’t want to leave her behind. She doesn’t understand why we have to go.”

Jim let himself actually smile. “Those are very good points. I think we can allow one extra cat to come on board the Enterprise. If anyone gives you any trouble, tell them Fluffy has permission from Commander Kirk and they can take it up with me. Okay?”

The girl’s face brightened, and she blurted out a thanks before running back to the nearest house. Jim stood up, watching her go, and while it wasn’t the most important moment of the day, he at least could feel that he was making a difference.

He returned to the Enterprise later that evening, after one or two isolated incidents where the colonists being left behind began causing trouble for the majority who were uprooting themselves. Jim hadn't been there, but he knew that their chief of security, Lt. Commander Russell, was more than familiar with the kinds of problems the diehards could cause. They were feeling betrayed by their peers, and despite the odds being stacked against them, were unwilling to give up their new lives.

After a quick report back to the captain, he retreated to his quarters. With the doors locked safely behind him, Jim felt the day's tension in ways he hadn't been allowed to experience earlier. He didn't want to feel them, not now, and while he knew it was a dangerous escape, he headed straight for the liquor. Once upon a time, he'd have stocked bourbon out of deference to his best friend's tastes, but the beverage nowadays was rare and worth a small fortune on the black market. Instead, he'd taken to drinking Saurian brandy, which was always available, and poured himself a large glance before sinking down onto his sofa.

He reached for his padd, and skipped past the official messages to see whether there was anything personal waiting his attention. His family was more in touch now, thanks to the destruction of Earth, and while he tried not to concentrate on the irony that it took a major disaster to bring his brother and mother back into touch, he appreciated the renewed connections. He also hoped, despite continued disappointment, that he'd find a reply from Bones.

That wasn't going to deter him from writing. Jim took a long sip of brandy, and started jotting down his thoughts. He didn't tend to reread his letters, and he didn't do a lot of planning on what he wanted to say. For the tonight's missive, he paused once, only after writing about his frustrations at having to assist in the evacuation of Katimavik.

 _It's a nice planet,_ he'd written. _You would have liked it, nice and quaint. The perfect place for a country doctor, like you always used to call yourself. If everything had gone well, I'm sure this would've been a great place. One of those planets that were known for being something. Maybe a planet where we'd have universities, or poetry, or just a really awesome fishing hole. But I guess we'll never know._

And then, almost because he could Bones' voice in his head, he added a few more lines: _Yeah, I know I'm morbid tonight. Been drinking a bit. It isn't fun drinking alone. I miss you._

At least in writing, he could tell the truth.

*

There were a few civilians in the mess hall when Jim descended for breakfast. The Enterprise was well on the way to reuniting with the fleet before passing the colonists onto another transport, and already Jim was tired of seeing the reminder of another lost planet everywhere around him. Most of them were being friendly to the crew, but there were more than a few who'd been belligerent and confined to their billets.

He kept his distance anyway, unwilling to hear any complaints before he'd had his first cup of coffee. He took his usual breakfast, and after spotting Hikaru at a nearby table, angled himself over to join him, Pavel Chekov and Nyota Uhura. He deliberately kept his back to the room, in a semblance of privacy.

"Did you hear the news?" Hikaru asked before Jim had time to take a sip of coffee. "We're rendezvousing with the Liberator at 0830."

That was definitely news, and it had to be recent because Jim hadn't seen that when checking his messages. "Really?"

"And there's a special briefing immediately afterwards," Pavel added.

"Any idea what's happening?" Jim asked. The usual morning meeting for the last year typically consisted of news on the latest colonies on the evacuation list, and rarely did that need a special notice.

This time, it was Nyota's turn to answer. "Commodore Garth himself is beaming over."

That was an interesting development, and Jim couldn't help the frown as he took the first bite of his omelette. The usual communication from the fleet commander came through communiques and the odd on-screen conversation with Captain Spock. They hadn't seen the commodore in person since the Enterprise relaunched after her repairs ten months before. "So what's the occasion?"

"We were hoping you'd know," Hikaru admitted.

"Other than confirming that Starfleet has the worst top-secret clearance in the history of military intelligence," Jim said, "I haven't a clue."

They were disappointed, but they'd have to live with in for another hour. Jim ate his breakfast, and gradually Hikaru and Pavel both made their excuses to wander off before their shifts started on the bridge. Nyota, on the other hand, took her time finishing her coffee. The silence was easy, as it often was these days, and nothing like their antagonism at the Academy; sometimes Jim missed that, but then he'd miss Bones and that never ended well.

"I saw you sent another message," Nyota said finally.

Jim paused from spreading jam on his toast. She wouldn't know the content, but she could tell the intended recipient. "I did, yeah."

"And he still hasn't answered," she said. "Is it still worth trying to reach out?"

Jim didn't let himself sigh, though he wanted to. New friends had stepped into the gulf left in Bones' wake, and while Nyota was proving to be a good friend – and Hikaru, too, especially, since falling from a platform into the atmosphere of a disintegrating planet was a surefire bonding experience – her steadfast support was different from the loud fussing he'd gotten used to hearing.

"I think so," he said. "As long as the messages aren't bouncing back, that's giving me hope."

She nodded for a long moment, and it wasn't exactly the first time they'd had this conversation. Months earlier, although she wasn't looking his messages, she'd expressed concern on just what kinds of detail Jim might be sharing. More than amply familiar with the idea that "loose lips sink ships," especially in these turbulent times with the Narada still unaccounted for, Jim tried not to include anything that revealed their current coordinates or that would violate confidentiality. They were just tidbits that Bones would find interesting, about people they knew in common and situations that he'd be the best person to appreciate.

And, of course, a safe conduit to bare his soul.

"I could always tag a program to your messages that could tell you more about what's happening with him," Nyota offered. "Nothing too obtrusive, but you'd at least know whether the messages are being opened."

That was a part of his fear, and while Jim appreciated the gesture, he didn't think he wanted to know that reality just yet. "I'll think about it, all right?"

"Sure." Nyota smiled. "Your next message should include the story about Spock."

"Which one?" There were many, some of which Jim shared, and many that he kept to himself. Soon after their relaunch, he'd written to Bones about what it was like to overcome his differences with Spock, and how well he was getting to know their Vulcan captain. _He regrets his decision, Bones. Turns out Vulcans really do have emotions after all, but it's a deeper level that I don't quite understand but that I'm learning to respect. He'd apologize to you if you were around, I'm sure of it._

"The Vulcan idea of practical jokes," she said with a smile.

"As in it was practically a joke?" Jim tsked. "Mocking your undefined partner first thing in the morning has got to be a new kind of low, Nyota, but you're right. I think Bones would like that."

"He would," she said, and that was a reminder she'd known Bones, too. They'd shared a class or two together, and that was a spectrum beyond Jim's on-going pursuit of her given name. Bones could've spilled the beans about her name long before Jim actually found out the truth – from Spock, no less – but he'd kept his lips sealed. He'd also berated Jim a few times not to be an ass about it, and sometimes he'd actually listened to Bones' cautions.

They went their separate ways, and Jim checked the ship's status and all of his messages before assembling with the rest of the senior crew in the briefing room. Most of them were already present, but Captain Spock had yet to arrive. Jim assumed he was in the transporter room to meet their guest, and it was only a matter of time before the two commanding officers showed up.

Commodore Stephen Garth – Garth of Izar, as he sometimes preferred – was the senior officer commanding the sigma formation, the eight Starfleet vessels that included the Enterprise. Even though theirs was the newest ship, and had been intended to be the flagship for the entire fleet, the current situation meant they couldn't celebrate the brilliance the Enterprise was meant to represent. Spock was a junior captain with a mostly inexperienced crew, and their mission was one that didn't require seasoned officer now that Captain was assumed dead.

Garth was partial to his own ship, and despite the preference for the older vessel, Jim had every reason to admire him. He'd led more exploration missions than most captains, with the record firmly under his belt. Outside of class, Jim remembered hearing stories about Garth from Pike during some of their meetings, and the impression he'd gotten was a man who had charisma that matched his intelligence.

He wondered what meeting him in person would be like.

When the doors finally opened, Spock entered first with Garth a few footsteps behind him. The commodore stood a few inches shorter than Spock, but he had presence that drew everyone's attention to him immediately. He was followed by another officer, also wearing command gold, and who stood behind him at attention. Garth came to the head of the briefing table, and nodded to the assembled crew.

"Good morning," he said, in a calm voice. "I'm Commodore Garth, and I'm pleased to finally meet the men and women who make the Enterprise the success that she is. I'd also like to introduce Captain Matthew Decker, my executive officer."

There was a brief exchange of hellos, and Jim studied both men closely. The rumours about Garth were already true, he could tell that easily, but Decker was a different kind of persona. Competent, yes, but there was something about the other man that made Jim feel slightly uneasy.

"First of all," Garth continued, "I want to thank each and everyone one of you for the exemplary work you've done since we lost our home planet. I know this has been a trying eleven months for you, and you've all been through difficult moments. I know I speak for your captain, though perhaps a little more emotionally --" there was a brief chuckle, as Spock raised a brow "-- when I say that you've more than proven yourselves. I'll be proud to report that the Enterprise crew have yet again performed above and beyond my expectations, despite the doubts some have had about your abilities."

Jim glanced at the table, and he knew at a certain level that was true. If Earth had been spared, he suspected they'd have returned to the Academy once the mission was over, and left to finish their individual studies before being assigned to ships the way it was supposed to be. As it was, most of them had earned battlefield promotions and even Jim was benefiting from his appointment as tactical officer and as Spock's second-in-command.

"That said, I regret not coming to see you earlier, but as you can imagine, it's been difficult all over the fleet." Garth took a seat at the head of the table, while Spock silent sat to his left. "What I wanted to do is offer you all a brief update as to what our strategy will be in the upcoming months."

The display screen to the left of their table illuminated, and Jim quickly recognized the map of Federation space. He ignored the two new zones marked with dashed lines, representing the black holes where Earth and Vulcan used to be; the red zones were the planets already evacuated, and there was the usual green and blue to designate the Klingon contested zone and Romulan neutral zone.

"So far, we're ahead of schedule when it comes to evacuating the colonies," Garth began. "That's mostly due to your excellent work. I also appreciate the contact you've made with our allies. I do have to say, however, what's worrying us most is that we suspect the inevitable is happening; we've always known there was the possibility that the Klingons and Romulans would notice what we're doing. We can't prove anything with the Romulans, and we're holding off on contacting them as yet."

"Hard to tell them that there's a future Romulan running around in their space who's responsible for destroying planets," Jim said.

"If they don't know about it already," Hikaru pointed out.

"They probably do," their new engineer, named Schwartzer, said. "We'll find out when they show up in a few years with new versions of the Narada."

Garth's expression grew carefully neutral as a collective shudder went around the table. "We're observing that carefully, Commander; I won't say anything more than that."

It was a discussion about spies and espionage that Jim wasn't in the mood to hear. He leaned forward instead. "Are you saying the Klingons are onto us?"

"We were hoping we'd have a reprieve for several years," Garth said, "but it seems there's the beginning of mobilization on the other edge of contested space."

Jim eyed the map again. "That's space we've evacuated already, other than the planets with indigenous species who are friendly to us."

"Some of them are planets that have been fought over for centuries," Garth confirmed. "I understand that, and while there are several planets where we may be forced to cede our relationships if it means we can avoid outright conflict. There's one planet, however, where it's vital that we continue our relationship, and that's Axanar."

Pavel sat up. "But Axanar is not within distance of Klingon space."

"That's true, but that's still on the frontier of Federation space which is currently untenable to defend with our current fleet," Garth said. "Axanar is currently experiencing their own hostilities, though they've been tight-lipped about the identity of their enemies since we made first contact with them in the 2150s. The current thought is that if we formulate our friendship with them, and provide assistance, they'll be able to use their lines of alliances to return help in security space."

"You want to make them full members of the Federation?" Nyota asked for the first time.

"That's the idea," Garth replied, "and this is where I also make a proposition. Captain Spock, I'd like to take Lieutenant Uhura with me on this mission. I require a first-class linguist to help with the Axanarian language, and while I'm aware it isn't a language taught at the Academy, I understand that won't be much of a problem providing we offer you the materials. Am I right?"

He flashed her a smile, and Nyota returned it in a way that Jim would've huffed at a year ago. "I'm excited to have this opportunity, sir."

Spock's lips thinned just slightly, and Jim thought he knew the man's expressions well enough to show that he wasn't too happy about the development – especially if it meant Nyota would be leaving for a while. "That sounds logical. If the lieutenant desires to take the mission, I have no issue with the matter."

"Perfect." Garth turned the smile on the rest of them. "In the meantime, I'm giving you and your crew a three-day pass for shore leave. I'd want you to go to Centaurus, which has the facilities to handle you in addition to processing your passengers. Plus, I understand some of your crew has family there." Seeing as it was the new centre of human civilization, anyone who had surviving loved ones would likely have them on Centaurus now. "There'll be a supply shipment readying in the time it takes you to get there. Mostly medical in nature, but it's things I'll have you bring to the rest of the fleet when you rendezvous with us at Axanar later."

The expressions around the table collectively brightened at the news. They'd fallen into a routine, and while they weren't exactly running ragged, there was still an emotional strain that wouldn't ease, at least not for a long time. A chance to escape with a little R&R wouldn't go amiss.

After that, Garth sat back and let the rest of the meeting pass as the normal morning business continued. Jim found himself eyeing the commodore from time to time, but each time he found his attention diverted to Captain Decker who still stood behind him. Decker was watching him, and held his gaze for several long moments before Jim had to tear his attention back to Spock.

When he glanced back, Decker was still staring; this time, he made a gesture that meant he wanted to talk to Jim afterwards.

It took another ten minutes for the briefing to end, and Jim made sure to keep to his seat while Spock led Garth out, and then the other officers filed out. Jim saw Hikaru looking his way, and gave a tiny shrug to show that he had no idea what was going on.

"So you're Jim Kirk," Decker said once the door was shut. "I've been wanting to meet you, but there hasn't been an opportunity. Christopher sang your praises whenever we spoke. He kept on telling me that you were Starfleet's upcoming boy wonder."

Jim brushed past the praise. "You knew Captain Pike?"

"We graduated together," Decker said. "He's probably one of the few I kept in regular touch with over the years. When the Constitution class project got started, we were both recruited as future captains. He couldn't wait for the Enterprise to launch, and whenever I was in 'Frisco I'd listen to his stories about doing time at the Academy. Losing Christopher is just one more insult to every injury we've endured in the last year."

That was a funny way of describing the destruction of their home planet, but Jim kept his thoughts to himself. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"Honestly, nothing in particular," Decker said. "I wanted to meet you, to see this wunderkind that Christopher kept talking about, and I have to say, I've been keeping an eye on your record. If you keep up the good effort as Spock's second in command, I can foresee you having a ship of your own before long."

"Captain Pike said the average time it takes to become captain is eight years," Jim said.

"That was before the Narada happened." Decker came close and perched on the edge of the table. "It'll be a while before we get any new ships built, though they're starting to make a new shipyard in orbit of Centaurus. But the next time an opening happens, I'm fully expecting to recommend you for the job, Kirk."

"Thank you, sir." Jim waited for a moment. "If you don't mind my asking, Captain, why wouldn't you be going for a command of your own?"

Something shifted in his expression, but Jim couldn't quite parse the expression. "I was promised the Constellation, Mr. Kirk. Third in line to be built in Iowa. They were just laying out the bare skeleton when the planet disappeared. I lost a lot of things that day, not just my future command, and the least I can do is try my damnedest to try to restore Starfleet to the strength she needs to be so nothing goes wrong ever again."

That's what they were all doing, but from the glint in those blue eyes, Jim began to feel like Decker was having a completely different conversation.

"If that's everything, sir..." Jim began.

"I was also wondering if you'd heard from your friend Leonard McCoy lately," Decker asked.

Jim sat up slightly. "No, sir, I haven't."

"That's a shame," Decker said, and at least he seemed to believe Jim's word. "Because whenever you were mentioned, usually in the same breath McCoy's name would follow. Christopher would joke that you two seemed joined at the hip. I know you're probably aware of this, but there's usually a consequence to dropping out of the service before the required years of service are up."

"Technically we didn't graduate, sir," Jim said.

"Battlefield graduation, then," Decker amended. "The second you stepped onto the Enterprise, Kirk, you all became officers in the eyes of Starfleet. Extenuating circumstances, call it what you will. The point remains is that in normal circumstance, McCoy could be arrested for desertion, but it's the decision of the fleet to currently look the other way while we sort out our future. McCoy's far from the only officer who walked away from his duty, and frankly we need each and every one of them. McCoy's medical experience especially is needed more than ever."

Every point Decker made was something that Jim had already considered, and he couldn't help flashing back to his attempts at convincing Bones to stay. He could still see the denial on Bones' face, at the way he'd waved away to consequences of deserting in an hour of need. Hundreds of years ago, armies would execute soldiers at dawn for desertion, and far worse, and while they'd evolved past that, there were still going to be consequences.

"What are you saying?" Jim asked, and then added a belated, "Sir."

"My assignment is to bring every officer who's currently AWOL to justice," Decker said. 'We aren't pursuing them yet, Kirk, but that time may come. If they come back on their own terms, we'll welcome them with open arms, and nothing on their record to show their lapse in judgement. Should it come that we need to go get them, they're looking at a court martial."

"With the sentence probably being...?" Jim asked.

"Forcible confinement to a ship as they carry out their duty," Decker says. "No shore leave, no away team duties. If they disobey those directives, they're looking at a far harsher sentence. I'm saying, Kirk, that if you should be in contact with him, I want you to communicate that message. We're giving him a free ride, should he want to come back, but only if he comes of his own free will."

"I don't know if he will," Jim said. "The last time I spoke to him in person, he was pretty clear that he was done with Starfleet."

"He lost his family, didn't he?" Decker asked.

"Yeah, his daughter," Jim said.

"And do you think he's the only one?" Decker demanded.

The vehemence in the question surprised him. Jim found himself leaning away from the captain's presence. "Of course not, sir. I can tell you exactly how many people there are on this ship who lost family when Vulcan and Earth were destroyed."

"Did you?" he asked.

"No, sir," Jim said. "I found out my mom was off planet, so she's okay. My brother's family lives off-world already, so I wasn't worried about them."

"Then consider yourself lucky, Kirk," Decker said, and his eyes shimmered in the lights. He blinked, and an instant later it was gone. Instead, he smiled grimly. "If you do talk to Leonard McCoy, you can tell him that there's every intention to find that Romulan bastard and take him down. For some of us, we'll do it if that's the last thing we do. Maybe he'll want to join in the fight then."

"Maybe," Jim echoed, but there was a strange twist in his chest. He stood up and faced the older man. "With your permission, sir, I should be reporting to my station now."

"Of course." Decker got to his feet, and extended his hand to the commodore. His grip was dry, a bit too firm, and held for a second too long. "Dismissed, and don't forget."

As if Jim could ever forget something involving Leonard McCoy.

*

 _We're about to get a chance to go on our first legitimate shore leave,_ Jim wrote later that night. _The months it took for the Enterprise to be retrofitted and repaired don't count, so stop raising that eyebrow I know is climbing up your forehead. We're going back to Centaurus, and I'm looking forward to touring the new homeworld. I don't know, Bones, it's like moving away from home and your parents selling your old house, and expecting you to find a home in their new place. Not that the analogy means all that much to me, since my mom never sold the old farmhouse and I never really thought of it as home, but that's what I imagine it to be like._

_Not sure what I'll do there, though. Certainly no shenanigans, as you'd call them. Besides, I'm the XO now, and there's a certain amount of respectability and responsibility implied in that position. Hell, it's my job now to rein in the junior ranks._

_Yeah. I'm not sure what to make of that either._

*

They were almost twenty-four hours out from Centaurus when Jim's comm received a message.

He didn't respond to it right away, figuring that Decker might've been sending a reminder about their conversation and all the not-so-veiled threats about what could happen to Bones if he didn't return. Jim still wasn't too sure what to make of that encounter, and how it was expected that he'd be Bones' keeper by returning him to the military fold. Before everything had gone to hell, Jim would've admitted that he was responsible for steering Bones onto the same career path, but only as much as Bones was vital in steering Jim toward the straighter and more narrow life than he'd been doing before.

If it was Decker, he could goddamn wait. There were more pressing matters for Jim to attend to first, and he focused on making the necessary arrangements for the former Katimavik colonists on Centaurus. When the process worked the way it should, they'd be deposited in a temporary camp in what was a southern city – the best climate to match their former home – and wait further processing until permanent arrangements could be made. Most would likely settle on Centaurus, but there were several that would like go find another colony to inhabit.

He waited until his midday break to check his comm, and he had to read the display twice before he fully registered the address: _McCoy, L.H._ A cold shock ripped through him, and he locked himself into the nearest storage closet, needing the privacy before opening the message. He took a deep breath, back against the wall, as he started to read.

_Hello, I see you're sending lots of messages so you've got to be as worried about him as I am. Leonard will kill me for doing this, but since you're coming near I thought it was a good idea to invite you over. Comm me when you're close, and I'll give you more information. I'm deleting this message after it's sent. Don't reply._

A comm code followed, and Jim made note of it before pocketing his comm. He felt unsteady as he made his way back to his station, and checked the Enterprise's ETA. They'd reach orbit in the middle of the next day's shift, and then he'd be busy with the evacuees for a few more hours after that. He debated with himself over responding when they still had a long way to go, or waiting until his duty was done. He also wondered at who the author might've been, if it wasn't Bones who'd finally chosen to answer a message.

Because if they'd seen it, that meant that Bones was receiving them and saving them. That meant something, didn't it?

"I hear there's a good night life in the capital city," Hikaru said after a while. "They have a major university there, so it's got to have something going on."

"Run by Russians I am told," Pavel chimed it, "therefore it must be good."

Jim smiled to himself at the enthusiasm. "That's sounding more like a reason to steer clear of it, Mr. Chekov."

"Hardly," Pavel scoffed. "The one drink you are guaranteed to find anywhere in the universe is vodka. That much will remain constant."

The kid had a point. Some things were by accident of survival becoming beyond rare, and with rising demands for rare materials, the prices were becoming exorbitant. The one time Jim had been tempted to buy a bottle of bourbon, the asking price made him stop. It was more than he could make in a lifetime. By comparison, Saurian brandy was cheap and plentiful, which was the better selling point these days.

When there was a lull, Jim went over to the communications station and positioned himself so his back was to the rest of the bridge. "I got a reply," he murmured.

Nyota stopped in the middle of her task, and looked at him with an expression that was trying to be neutral but the way her eyes widened gave her shock away. "You did?"

"Sort of," he said. "Can you track where the last message I received came from?"

"I can try," she said, and concentrated on her displays. Jim watched, trying not to hold his breath, and sighed when she shook her head. "I can't be as precise as I'd like, but it's most definitely coming from Centaurus. I can run a further analysis on it, if you'd like, but it probably won't come up with more detail."

"You're the expert," Jim said, "but thanks."

For the remainder of his shift, Jim found himself thinking more and more about the message, and by the time he ended up in his quarters, he pulled out his comm to see if he was remembering it properly. Nothing had changed since the last time he'd read it, and Jim weighed his options carefully again, with the spectre of his conversation with Decker heavy in his thoughts.

He keyed in the code before he could decided against it.

When the connection came through, a woman appeared on the screen. It was hard to tell what time of day it was from where she was located, but it was bright enough so Jim could clearly see her dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and angle of her jaw. She had to be a McCoy, and that made something knotted inside Jim's chest ease somewhat.

"Hi, there," he began. "I'm Jim Kirk."

The woman grinned. "Well, look at that. I'm glad you decided to answer. Wasn't sure if you were going to keel over in shock when you saw a message coming from Len after all this time."

"Would you blame me?" he asked. "And you are?"

"Donna Withers," she said. "My maiden name was McCoy, though, and you have the pleasure of knowing my younger brother."

"Bones is your brother?" Jim frowned, and while he wasn't surprised to find out new details about his friend's family, he was still annoyed that they were popping up. Then again, he'd never asked for any details himself, and Bones wasn't the kind to volunteer information unless he was drunk.

"If by Bones you mean Leonard?" She raised an eyebrow, waiting for Jim's nod, before smiling. "Then yes."

"Do you know where he is?" Jim asked.

"I sure do." She smiled. "Right here. Well, not here presently, and he's going to be more than a little annoyed when he finds I've been snooping through his messages, but I had to. He's been here the entire time, more or less."

"Well." Jim didn't know what to say. "Is he okay?"

Donna gave a slight shrug. "He's all right. Surviving. Why don't you come on by and see for yourself? I saw that you've got shore leave, and I'd love some company. I don't know if you've ever had sweet tea, but I make an awfully mean glass of it."

"I'd love to try it," he admitted, and jotted down the address when she gave it to him. "Look, we're still several hours out, and I'm not sure yet how my chrono runs in comparison to yours. I'll let you know when we're in orbit, and when I'm ready to come down."

"I'll be here," she promised.

*

To call Centaurus' capital city a boom town was a slight misnomer, and possibly didn't convey the madhouse of activity that had overtaken the entire planet. Many of the evacuated colonies had chosen to make Centaurus their home, and almost overnight the planet's population had boomed from a few hundred thousand to four million, and there ships arriving almost every week.

The address Donna had given him was located in one of the few older neighbourhoods. Jim called for a taxi to drive him over from the Starfleet base, and eyed the bustling activity as they went. The driver sounded like a local, who complained about the influx of newcomers and the changes it enforced on the city.

"My parents came here because it was a fresh start, a small place to raise a family and make their mark," the man continued. "Anyway, if you'd wanted to go to one of the suburbs, I wouldn't have taken you. No one knows their way around those places yet, there aren't even houses built in all of them. A madhouse, that's what it is."

Jim sat back, listening with a half an ear, and felt glad he was wearing civvies. He eyed the small properties as they passed. "I like the trees here."

"You won't find that in the suburbs," the driver said. "Maybe in ten, twenty years, you'll get shade like that. Those are local trees, too. Folk from Earth tell me they look like elms."

Jim eyed the drooping branches that spanned the roadway. "They do."

"It's almost autumn," the driver said. "If you're here long enough in a few weeks, you'll see them turn an amazing purple colour. Makes Earth's reds and oranges look pedestrian." He suddenly paused. "I'm sorry, you an Earther?"

"I am," Jim said, though sometimes he wondered if that should be in the past tense now.

"Condolences." That left an awkward pause inside the vehicle, but soon enough they pulled to the side of the road. Jim immediately picked out the Withers residence by the virtue of there being a peach bric-a-brac by the front door. "Here you are. Enjoy your stay."

He wasn't even at the front steps yet when the door opened. In person, Donna looked even more like her brother, though she barely came up past Jim's shoulder. She crossed her arms over her chest, and tilted her head to the side, contemplating Jim as he approached.

"You're not quite what I expected," she said by way of greeting, but as she smiled, the familiarity of the expression drove a pang in his heart. She held out her hand, and Jim shook; the grip was firm. "I'm glad you didn't get lost. Some people find Centaurus confusing, especially the way it is these days."

"Let it never be said McCoys aren't direct in their instructions," Jim told her.

"And that's how I know you're being polite," she chided, ushering him in, and pointed to the doormat. "Leave your shoes there, and come on it. I've got cobbler in the kitchen. Lord knows what they feed you on those starships."

Jim made a face. "Not the tastiest of offerings lately."

She made a sound, and after Jim was settled with a dish of dessert and cup of coffee, she placed herself in front of him.

"Lenny's mentioned you often," she said. "Your name comes up more often than not."

"So Bones is here?" Jim asked, trying not to smile at the nickname she'd given him.

"Showed up on my doorstep months ago, looking like his heart had been ripped from his chest and torn to shreds in front of him," she said, mouth twisting slightly. "Of course, that's pretty much what happened. We weren't particularly close before, but sometimes it takes a disaster to mend some fences."

Jim nodded. "So he must have gone straight here after he disembarked from the Enterprise."

"Figured he was AWOL," she said. "He never said as much."

Recalling his conversation with Decker, Jim shrugged. "Starfleet doesn't have the luxury of going after everyone right now."

"I'm surprised it's taken you this long to find him," she said, one eyebrow raising in familiar challenge. "I mean, you just had to look at his file, realize he wasn't an only child, and then put two and two together."

"You know him," Jim said. "Private. Took him weeks to tell me about Joanna, and we were roommates and everything." And that particular detail would just go unsaid for a while. "And my sincere condolences about her, by the way."

Her expression grew somber for a few moments, as she looked away. "Thank you. Did you ever meet her?"

"Once." Jim chuckled. "Long enough to realize she's got her daddy's forceful personality, and she's got him wrapped around her little finger. Smart kid."

"She was," Donna breathed out as a sigh. "I'd been thinking of calling Jocelyn to ask if we could arrange a visit. I've got two girls of my own, and they hadn't seen their cousin in ages. Maybe have it coincide with one of Lenny's visits, if it worked."

"But you said you and Bones weren't close?" Jim couldn't help the questioning.

"We weren't. Differences of opinion mostly. We argued about how we should've managed our dad's last few months. I wanted palliative care, and he was focused on trying to sustain him for the cure. That's the thing about medical folk, they still want to cure and heal even when the battle's past being won." From the way she said it, Jim suspected there was more to the comment, but didn't press. She let out a sigh. "Lenny did the right thing in the end, but by the time Dad passed away, we were barely civil. I should've realized he was burned to the core by his efforts to cure the disease, and I can't even remember what set me off. I just laid into him while we were discussing the burial options."

Jim made a face. "That didn't go well."

"The funeral was the last time I saw him," she said, "and until the day he showed up at my front door, I didn't think we'd ever make amends. Even then, it took our entire home planet being devastated to bring us together."

"You're the only family he had left," Jim said.

But Donna shook her head. "I was the only person in the entire universe who had pictures of Joanna. Lenny lost all of his when Earth was destroyed."

"Oh." Jim hadn't thought of that, and deep down, he should've. "I guess it's the little things."

"I suppose." Donna paused by taking a long drink of coffee, and then eyed Jim's plate. "Something wrong with the cobbler?"

Jim glanced down, and shook his head. "No, ma'am."

"Ma'am was my mother," Donna corrected, watching as Jim took his first bite. "We don't have peaches here, but those are some local berries. My kids love it."

There was an interesting tang with the sweetness, reminding Jim of rhubarb and plums. He smiled as he collected up the second mouthful on his fork. "It's delicious, thanks. So how long have you been on Centaurus?"

"We moved here in 2254, so nearly five years," she said. "Fred and I both work for the university. I'm a medical biologist, and he's a chemist."

"Still in the family business?" Jim teased.

"More or less." Donna smiled, and then looked rueful. "Though if we'd known this would become the new capital, we'd maybe have chosen another planet. It's just so damned busy here! The cost of living's gone up, and there's so many people nowadays. Our neighbourhood used to be on the outskirts of town, and almost overnight, we're now considered part of downtown."

Jim looked sympathetic. "Must be a difficult situation."

She waved away the comment. "It's all right. They're just growing pains, and I sound like my mother moaning and groaning about the good old days."

"We all turn into our parents, or so they say," Jim said, and for a few moments, he wondered whether he was more like his mom or dad. Not for the first time, he wished he could actually figure it out for himself. "So Bones came to stay?"

She nodded. "We have an apartment in our basement. Lenny stays there, but eats his meals with us. It's a decent arrangement, I think, especially now that he's got something resembling a normal schedule."

"What do you mean by normal?" Jim asked.

"First month or so, Lenny barely came out of the basement," she said. "Fred and I took turns bringing him down food. Everyone mourns differently. He just... shut down for a while."

Jim remembered their last night together, and how rough Bones had looked before being dragged from Sickbay. He tried not to imagine how much worse Bones would've been without him. "He ran himself ragged until we got here."

"He just needed time," she said. "Now he's working in one of the local clinics, with some kind of arrangement he's made with the doctors there. I haven't asked, since I suspect it's not exactly legal, but he's keeping himself busy."

"What do you mean, not exactly legal?" Jim asked.

"I can't tell you," she said, "but it might have to do with him not going by McCoy anymore."

"No?" The news didn't surprise Jim either. "I mean, I should've guessed, since I've had the computers keeping an eye out for Leonard McCoy. If he had a job under that time, he'd come up within days of being employed."

"He's used two pseudonyms that I know of," Donna said. "Devereaux, which is our mom's maiden name, and Jackson, our grandmother's name on our dad's side. He didn't want to be found."

"And yet here I am," Jim said, and for the first time, he looked around the kitchen. There were children's drawings on the fridge, including one where the painted person looked like Bones. "Where is everyone, anyway?"

"Georgia and Emma are at school," Donna said. "My husband Fred's at work, and Lenny's off doing his thing. I took the day off because I knew you were coming by, though I told my boss I wasn't feeling particularly well."

"Ah." Jim finished his cobbler, and wiped his mouth. "So why did you ask me to come by, then? I mean, I appreciate it, Donna. I really do. I miss the stubborn bastard."

"He grows on you that way, I know," she said, smiling to herself. "I don't know, there was something about the way he'd talk about you, and then I happened across the messages you were sending. I guess I had to do something. As much as I don't mind having him around, as strange as though that might be, I know he's only here to hide from himself."

"So, what?" Jim frowned. "You want me to convince him to go back to Starfleet?"

"I suspect that's something you wouldn't mind," Donna said.

Jim bought time by taking a large drink of coffee. "Well, yeah. It was supposed to be the two of us other there. I'm going to command a starship one day, and Bones is the person I want as my CMO. It's fate."

"Because Jim Kirk said so," Donna said, but it sounded like she was repeating something she'd heard. "So why Bones, anyway?"

"The nickname?" Jim smiled, leaning forward. "First time I met him, it was on the shuttle to San Francisco. Bones was half out of his mind with anxiety, you know how that was."

"Do I ever," she muttered.

"Well, I wasn't looking much better," Jim said. "Anyway, we got talking, and after he ranted for a bit, he said all he had left were his bones. That kind of stuck with me, and then I remembered how surgeons used to be called 'sawbones' centuries ago, since I'm a history buff, and the name kind of stuck."

She nodded. "You know, that's partially why I sensed you were interesting. I mean, I barely get away with calling him Lenny. Southern gentlemen aren't supposed to punch their older sisters in the arm anymore once they turn sixteen, after all."

"I've got an older brother," Jim said. "I can sort of relate."

"That reminds me," she said. "Samuel Kirk, would he by any chance be related to you?"

Jim sat up. "Yeah..."

"Thought so," she said. "You've got the same blue eyes. I met him once at a conference. Smart guy, though a little pretentious at times. I'm glad you seem to have missed on that personality trait."

Jim snorted. "That's my brother for you."

"They're okay?" she asked, and it was clear what she meant.

"Yeah, he and the family are on Deneba," Jim said. "Though not sure how long they're going to stay there. The colony's on the edge of the evacuation zone, so it might be considered far enough away from danger. I don't know."

"My school would be happy to have him if he thinks about moving," she said with a smile. "I could put a bug in a ear about it..."

They could hear the sound of the front door opening from the other room. Jim cast Donna a curious look, but she didn't seem to be alarmed.

"Probably my husband," she said, and called out, "I'm in here!"

"You're home?" came the reply, and Jim sat up suddenly as he recognized Bones' voice. "Hold on, I'll be there in a second."

Donna's eyes widened, and she murmured fiercely to Jim, "I thought he was working."

There was just enough time for Jim to shrug when Bones ambled in with a bag. Jim had no idea what he was expecting, and somehow he wasn't surprised to see a shaggy-headed, stubble-wearing version of his friend. Without the rules and regulations of Starfleet, he'd reverted to the way he'd appeared when Jim had met him on the shuttle; he was even wearing a similar jacket.

"Why're you home?" Bones asked, as he walked in toward the coffeemaker, and then he turned to face them. "Oh, I didn't realize you've got company, and..."

They faced each other, staring, and Jim became aware after several long moments it was like a standoff. Bones had frozen, a little like a deer in headlights, and his eyes were almost impossibly wide as he took in the realization just who was visiting.

Jim managed to speak first. "Hi, Bones."

*


	3. Another Day in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard knows every time the Enterprise is in orbit, but it hurts too much to reach out.

Leonard was having a good day.

A busy morning shift meant he had multiple patients to care for, and very little cares outside of that. None of his cases were too complicated; just a few allergies to the environment on Centaurus from people unused to the place, and a few kids with scraped knees. The one non-human patient, an Andorian who worked nearby, had also made an appointment to see him, since he was the only doctor present who had experience in xenomedicine. That suited Leonard fine, since he functioned best when busy.

Tlan ended up being the last the case of the morning, and as Leonard ran the tricorder over her, he found that she had a broken finger.

“How the hell did this happen?” he asked.

Her antennae twitched. “I jammed it in the door.”

Leonard raised his brows. “How'd you manage that one? You’re usually more careful than that.”

“Everyone is allowed to have an off day, Doctor,” she said.

He had to give her that point, and as he put the osteo-regenerator on her hand, he noticed that she was watching him. “What is it?”

“I wonder how it is that you know about Andorian physiology,” she said. “Under normal circumstances, I would have required attention from the medical team at the Starfleet base. I appreciate that you are here, but you make me curious.”

He hated questions like that, and tried to derail the conversation. “How is it that an Andorian is trying to help rebuild a human world?”

She smiled at him. “Humans would do the same for us if Andor had been attacked. We have benefited from the stability brought by the Federation. I hope to see it again within my lifetime.”

“How altruistic of you,” he murmured.

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw how irritated I become at how slow the resettlement process has become,” Tlan said. “In fact, being here isn’t going to do me many favours in the next few days. Another shipload of refugees has arrived, and without my presence, it will be slower than usual to find places for them.”

Leonard very carefully refused to ask for more details. He knew it had to be the Enterprise, and while he hadn’t checked his messages lately – maybe tonight, he was in a better mood – he could almost feel a pull that came with knowing that Jim Kirk was in the star system. That wasn’t doing much for how his day was going, and so he shoved it aside, letting Tlan complain about the inefficiencies of the system and making sympathetic sounds of agreement while her phalange healed. When the worst of the break had knitted together, he gave her a hypo of analgesic, and told her to scram.

“And don’t break anything else,” he called after her.

The waiting room was empty by then, and he found the other doctors and medics in the staff room. Dr. Karaman, the clinic’s director, paused from the conversation as Leonard entered. Of everyone who worked at the clinic, Karaman was the only person who knew the truth about Leonard’s history, and also tolerated the ups and downs of his moods in recent months.

“All finished, Devereaux?” Karaman asked.

By now, Leonard was used to being called by his mother’s maiden name. “Sure am. All the files are updated, and everything went well. If everyone’s all right with it, my shift’s over and I’ll head out.”

Normally, he'd say his goodbyes and head home. He never accepted offers for drinks, and he always had excuses if invited out somewhere. He wasn't in this job to make friends, and a part of him often wished that he'd spent his time at the Academy like this. It would've made his life simpler, but a hell of a lot more boring.

“Before you go,” Karaman said, calling him back from he even left the room, “I'd like your input. We're discussing the future of the clinic. I’ve been thinking about going where there’s greater need. They’ll always need doctors here, but they’ll also need them in the new suburbs and from what I heard from my contacts at the new Starfleet Medical, there’s still a dearth of doctors in those areas. I’m thinking about either moving there, or opening a second location to cater to those needs.”

Leonard nodded at that. “Whatever you decide, I'll support you. You’re the boss.”

From the glances the others were shooting between themselves, there was something else they were planning to spring on him. Marshall, the head nurse, spoke up. "A few of us think you should take over the clinic here when Dr. Karaman opens the second one. You've got the experience, and you know how this place works. You've got the ability to do it."

By now, everyone was staring, and Leonard shifted his weight, hating the scrutiny, and went to pour himself a new cup of coffee. He didn’t need the caffeine, but it gave him something to do. “I don’t know,” he said, and looked for the sugar even though he didn’t want any.

“Think about it,” Karaman said. "Arrangements can be made. We're not making the decision today, but I'd like to act soon."

He made promises that he'd think about it, and even as Karaman seemed pleased, the words sounded hollow to Leonard's ears. He abandoned his half-empty cup, and fled the clinic. What could've been a short walk home turned more into a meandering stroll, as he toured the neighbourhoods that lay between his sister's house and the clinic. He stopped only once, picking up some fresh groceries at a shop run by an older couple; they also stocked the best collection of liquor this side of the capital, and it was tempting to buy a bottle of something – well, anything except bourbon – and bury himself in the basement again.

Not today.

From the store he headed straight home, and kicked off his shoes in the front hall. He'd expected to be home alone, but he recognized Donna's voice coming from the kitchen. She sounded like she had company, and he wasn't in the mood for more people. He walked in anyway, intending to deposit everything on the counter, grab a cup of coffee, and retreat into his room for a few hours to read.

What he didn't expect was to find Jim Kirk sitting at their table.

He froze, completely unprepared at Jim's serendipitous presence. The urge to run and rail at him warred within, and it wasn't until the sound of his nickname coming from Jim's lips managed to break the spell that Leonard felt. He was immediately on the defensive, because that felt right.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Jim smiled, and for a half-second, it seemed like he was just as shaken to see Leonard. "You're been hard to find, buddy. I found out you've got a sister, found out she's here on Centaurus, and showed up on her doorstep about half an hour ago."

That sounded slightly feasible, but when Donna cast Jim a look, that told Leonard everything he needed to know. Jim was lying through his teeth.

"Maybe that should've been your clue that I didn't want to be found," Leonard said. "That's what I wrote in my letter, after all."

"I had to make sure you're okay," Jim continued. "Look at it from my side for a minute. You disappeared on me, and you weren't answering my messages. What the hell else was I supposed to do?"

Apparently what Jim Kirk always did in no-win situations, and that was the problem. Leonard turned his back on them as he went to get the coffee, and threw his words over his shoulder as he poured. "Well, you found me. As you can see, I'm fine and healthy, and now you're on your way."

"That's not the way to treat your friend, Lenny," Donna chided. "He was genuinely worried about you."  
There was a certain irony that the only two people in the universe who preferred to address him by nicknames were now sitting at the same table. Leonard leaned against the counter, stirring his coffee as he looked at his sister. "I can take care of myself."

"That's why you were huddled in my basement like a hibernating bear for almost two months?" Donna asked, her tone sharp.

That was a very valid point, and he didn't have a good answer. To avoid answering, Leonard took a large mouthful of coffee, and immediately regretted. It was still too hot, and he barely managed to swallow, feeling the liquid scalding down his oesophagus. He coughed. "That's not a fair comparison."

"Of course it's not," Donna said, pulling away from the table. "Look, why don't you two move to the living room? I've got a few things I want to do."

It might've sounded friendly, but to Leonard's ears, it was like they were back in Georgia and she hadn't wanted her kid brother around. He grumbled at that, and especially at how he was now obligated to play host. Jim looked a little amused, and that just irritated him further. He gestured out of the room, and glared at Donna before leaving.

She had to nerve to glare back.

"Who are these two?" Jim asked. He was by the mantle, where Donna kept most of the family pictures.

"Those are my nieces," Leonard said after a glance. "Emma and Georgia."

"They look a bit like Joanna," he said.

Strangely, that didn't hurt very much today, and Leonard reasoned to himself that it had to be due to being irked at Jim. Nevertheless, he looked at the holo of Joanna – the last school photo, with a tooth missing in her smile – for reassurance.

"I know," he said.

Jim continued to study the pictures, and then he grinned as he took down a picture that Leonard recognized instantly as his own. It was a much older one, taken in his premed years, with baby fat and innocence that Leonard sometimes envied. "How old were you here?"

"I don't know," he admitted, setting himself on the arm of the sofa. "Maybe nineteen or twenty."

"It's a good picture of you," Jim said. "I like how you're looking at the camera, like you're ready to take on what the life's going to bring you."

That wasn't what Leonard read into the pose. "I look naive and unprepared."

Jim set the holo down and faced him. "Are you even happy to see me?"

"Yes." That much surprised him, because the word escaped Leonard's lips before he was really aware of forming the word. His tone was quiet, and he dropped his gaze, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

He sensed Jim's proximity before he saw him. "Damn well hope so, Bones. It's not been the same without you. I've missed you."

The best thing he could do was take a sip of coffee, before he finally admitted the truth. "It's been quiet."

That made Jim smile. "So you've missed me, too."

"Yeah." There was no point in lying now.

The acknowledgement seemed like enough to satisfy Jim, and he set himself onto the sofa so that his shoulder brushed against Leonard's side. They sat together, the silence feeling comfortable between them, until Leonard glanced at him. Jim was watching him, waiting, but he had no idea what Jim wanted.

"You've been reading my messages?" he asked.

"I have."

Jim waited for a heartbeat. "And?"

Another thorny question, and Leonard shrugged. "I appreciated them. It meant a lot that you were reaching out, despite everything. I started writing a reply to each one, believe it or not, but I never finished them. I couldn't."

"That's something, though," Jim said, quietly. "So your sister says you've been busy. What this useful thing you've found?"

It was easier to talk about the clinic, and how he was helping families re-establish on Centaurus. He watched his foot as he spoke, watching his toes flex as he went from one phrase to another. "I basically got in through a contact of my brother-in-law. It's good work, and I can't complain."

"Doctors need to be registered," Jim said. "I've been checking the registries for months just in case you showed up."

"I put it off, and most of it is under the table," Leonard told him. "For the moment, it's all right. The government here's too busy trying to process the refugees and keep up with the demand on housing and provisions. They don't have the time to make sure every clinic's got a legitimate doctor." Which would have to change if he accepted Karaman's offer, but he wasn't ready to deal with that yet. "I'm signed in under the name of Devereaux."

Jim tried to school his expression. "Your mom's maiden name."

"Right, and it works well enough," Leonard said, and shrugged again. "So he pays me under the table, I don't have a lot of repeat patients because a lot of them are being shipped to the other cities. It's mostly family care, especially pediatrics. Make sure they're healthy, and treat them if they're not."

"But you're a trained surgeon," Jim pointed out.

That was one part of his practice that he missed, and Leonard schooled his voice to sound unaffected and detached from his words. "If they're really in need of care, we send them to the base."

"But what about your xenobiology training?" Jim continued.

Thinking about Tlan, Leonard did allow himself a tiny smile. "Sometimes that comes in handy in these parts, but not much much call for it when your clientele is mostly human."

"Bones..." Jim hesitated, and then tried again. "Bones, are you happy?"

That was a stupid question. "I'm being useful."

"Usefulness and happiness don't need to be exclusive states," Jim said, and then he shifted so he could face Leonard directly. "Listen to me, Bones. I'm looking at you, and I know you're still mourning. I'm not going to say you're wrong in that, because god knows, the entire fucking human race is doing the same thing right now. Thousands of people are missing their loved ones, but where they differ from you is that you're forcing yourself to suffer."

Maybe he was, but Leonard wasn't willing to listen to this conversation yet. "I'm not suffering, damn it."

"You look like you're suffering to me," Jim said. "I mean, you’ve always been a grumpy guy, and that's okay. It's your way of dealing, but I've seen you enthused and driven. I'm not seeing that right now."

What was there to be enthused about? Leonard truly wondered, but pressed his lips tightly together to keep his bitterness from spilling out.

"I remember you coming back to our dorm room," Jim said, lowering his voice. "Yeah, you'd be tired, but you'd always have this look on your face. Like you were satisfied at what you'd done, that you'd done something worthwhile."

Those moments weren't too hard to remember, although he hadn't let himself think of that in months. He'd come in, interrupt Jim in what he was doing – a change from the normal routine where it was Jim doing the interrupting – and if the mood was right, there would be drinks. Leonard remembered being appalled at Jim's lack of good taste when it came to alcohol, and he'd share his bourbon as they toasted.

And now that he thought about it, it was one of those nights where they'd first had sex. Leonard felt his cheeks warming at the memory, at how their drunken fumbling had turned to something more satisfying. The first time, Jim had ascribed it to a no-strings-attached night, which had suited Leonard's unrepentant mood, but then it had happened again.

Four times over the course of their academy career, and the fifth time... was something he didn't want to recall.

"Maybe I don't think I'm worth that anymore," he finally murmured.

He could tell that Jim was staring. "What?"

The problem was, he didn't have the energy to explain. "It's nothing."

"That wasn't nothing," Jim pressed.

Leonard raised his mug for another sip, but found it empty. Instead, he got up to pace in front of the mantle, and wished he could disappear. "Damn it, you just waltz in here, and you expect everything to be just like it was."

"I didn't say that," Jim said.

"No, but I can see it in your face. Like the goddamn Kobayashi Maru, you think you can just keep at something until you get your own way," Leonard snapped. "Newsflash, Jim, I'm a human being. I don't bend to your whims like a computer program, and nothing short of a fucking miracle is going to mend my life back together."

Whatever he thought Jim would say in answer to that, it wasn't what finally passed Jim's lips. "It wasn't your fault, Bones."

"What?" Leonard just stared.

"What happened to Joanna," Jim said, softly. "What happened to our planet. There was nothing you could've done to make a difference. I mean, we were lucky enough to avoid being destroyed at Vulcan like the rest of the fleet. But beating yourself up over the fact that you survived, that isn't doing justice to her memory."

And there it was, most of the issue thrown out on the floor like a cold, rotting fish. Leonard considered his options, and realized that as much as he wanted to run, Jim was just going to follow. He let out a huff, and surrendered. "Do you have to be so goddamn reasonable?"

Jim's expression perked up. "I've been accused of worse things."

"I know," Leonard said. "Come on, let's go for a walk. When I get in these moods, I need a change of scenery."

That was the best white flag he could manage at the present time.

Luckily, Jim seemed to accept it as he bounded up from the sofa. "Then take me on a tour. I'm on shore leave, so I've got time to kill."

"And you're wasting it on a killjoy," Leonard said. "Poor you."

Jim smiled. "No. Lucky me."

*

Sometimes, Leonard wondered what Centaurus had looked like before the sudden population influx. Donna used to mention that she could take the girls from their neighbourhood, which was on the edge of town, and go into the countryside for a daytrip. Nowadays, it took a long drive to get into untouched wilderness, and the dividing line between the old settlement and the new suburbs was one carved by a phaser into stone.

Sometimes Leonard made housecalls into the new neighbourhoods, and he could understand Tlan's frustration at the inefficiencies of the program. The new buildings were almost ramshackle, the haste in their construction painfully evident. They didn't quite look like a slum, with a desperate attempt at respectability that sometimes worked but often didn't, and it often set Leonard's teeth on edge. Everything was being done for the moment, with no vision for the future.

Glancing at Jim, he could tell the neighbourhood had the same effect on him.

"Do all the settlements look like this?" Jim asked.

"I haven't been anywhere else," Leonard said, shoving his hands into his pocket, "but I hear they're all a little different. All set on a grid, with no trees, and there's barely enough building materials to supply the demand. I hear they're bringing supplies from other planets, so I expect eventually people will improve their houses. I wonder sometimes if the Vulcans are having this problem, or if they're just logically figuring it out the most effective way of starting from scratch."

"There's also only about one hundred thousand of them," Jim said, "though last I heard, there's a new Vulcan science academy already started."

"Lucky them," Leonard said, and then they were turning a corner into a few blocks that weren't quite as rough as the others. The style of houses were different, more structures built for function rather than any kind of comfort. This wasn't an area he liked to visit too often, especially if he wasn't on medical business. The children were playing in the street, and the adults he could see were looking weary. "This area was settled by colonies that were forcibly removed, before Starfleet figured out it was better to negotiate."

"You can tell," Jim murmured.

"I know the Enterprise wasn't involved," Leonard continued, "but these people weren't happy to be here."

"They still aren't," Jim observed.

"No," he agreed. "One of the biggest problems is that they're trying to figure out everything about this planet. Where people are going to live, and where people are going to work. There's a lot of unemployment right now, in most of the settlements, though there's organizing efforts everywhere trying to figure out what skills people have and how they can best contribute."

"That's not going too well?" Jim asked.

"Of course not," Leonard said. "They're not letting the people figure it out for themselves."

Jim winced at the answer. "Well, where do you work in relation to here?"

"Down that way," Leonard said, pointing to the left, but he put his hand on Jim's back to steer him to the right. "It's my afternoon off, however, and I have no desire whatsoever to show my face there until my next shift."

"Which is when?" Jim asked, following his guidance.

"I have a day off," Leonard said, "and then I'm supposed to work about six days straight."

"So what's down here?" Jim asked, and it was clear he was enjoying his questions.

"The scenic route back into town," Leonard said, though he was being generous with the description. "Figure that if you're here on shore leave, I'd show you a few of the sights."

"The rest of my day rests in your capable hands," Jim said, winking at him. "Hey, remember the first month of the Academy, when we weren't overwhelmed with schoolwork yet, so we decided to go exploring?"

The change of topic surprised him, and Leonard couldn't help smiling in memory. "You made an itinerary."

"A damn good one," Jim said. "The bridge, a tour on the restored street car, the wharf..."

"And then you rented the hovercar so we could go see the sequoia," Leonard said, chuckling. "You made me stand in the middle of the tree so you could take my picture."

"Your arms were the perfect width to measure the opening to the tree," Jim scoffed. "It made perfect sense."

"You just wanted to use me as a human measuring stick," Leonard grumbled.

"And that's what you said at the time," Jim grinned. "You said, 'damn it, I'm a doctor, not a measuring stick.'"

Leonard snorted. "I think I said 'yard stick,' actually."

"Whatever," Jim said, and it was his turn to roll his eyes. "The important thing is that we had fun."

"We usually did," Leonard said, and knowing that was the truth. He nudged Jim with his shoulder. "I have missed you, Jim."

Jim looked at him, and from his expression, he was struggling with what he wanted to say. Unfortunately, it came out flippant. "I could've told you that."

"I said you, not your ego," Leonard retorted.

"You just love me for my id?" Jim shook his head. "I guess I'll take what I can get."

The lull in the conversation felt natural at that point, and they were reaching the older part of the capital by then. This was Leonard's first colony, but he knew enough about the structure of most Federation settlements to know that Centaurus was pretty typical when it came to its layout: administration buildings in a central place, no overtly monumental architecture, and a functional assortment of businesses and institutional buildings spread out usually within walking distance. He pointed them to Jim as they passed.

"So why did you come home early?" Jim asked after a while. "I had the feeling from Donna that you're usually gone for the full day."

Leonard shrugged. "Depends on the shift, but yeah, my hours were odd today."

"That's all?" Jim asked.

"Do I need a good excuse to justify walking in on you two conspiring against me?" Leonard asked, though his tone wasn't sharp.

"That technically wasn't conspiring," Jim said. "I haven't figured out how to get you back out in space yet, I'll admit, but I really just came to see you."

"You're not getting me back out in space," Leonard said flatly.

"Give me one good reason," Jim said.

"Because I don't want to go."

Jim eyed him for a moment. "You know, I don't believe you. If I hadn't watched you overcome your phobia, maybe, but yeah, I think you're full of it."

"Haven't been on a shuttle since I got here," Leonard pointed out.

"So?" Jim waited for an answer. "You're talking yourself into it, you know."

"No, I'm not," Leonard shot back, knowing his voice was getting a petulant edge.

"Then get on a shuttle and prove it to me."

That deserved all the snark Leonard could muster. "And I wouldn't suppose this shuttle happens to be headed for the Enterprise?"

"Ideally," Jim said, and it was clear he was ignoring Leonard's tone. "I'm glad you're seeing it my way."

"Goddamn it," Leonard finally murmured. "I forgot how persistent you can be when you're at it."

"You're calling me stubborn?" Jim repeated, and smiled. "Because I gotta let you know, Bones, that's a little like the pot calling the kettle black."

"As if you've ever seen a kettle," Leonard retorted, scuffing his boot against the road.

"I do go to museums. Sometimes. When I can find one." Jim paused, and then changed the topic completely. "So your sister seems nice. She mentioned you two weren't close earlier. How many years are there between you, anyway?"

"About four. I was the great disappointment in her life," Leonard said. "She wanted a puppy, and she got a baby brother instead. Although she did teach me how to play fetch from the time I could crawl, much to our mother's chagrin."

Jim winced. "My brother just resented me for being there when our dad wasn't."

"Maybe in the same vein," Leonard said, and admittedly, this was new territory for them. "Anyway, it's been like that for years now. But afterward, when... you know, I had nothing. When we left for the Enterprise, we didn't imagine we'd be going for good, you know? We didn't even have time to get a change of clothes, or anything, from the dorms."

"I know," Jim said softly.

"Now we're both adults," Leonard continued, eyes fixed firmly on the ground so Jim couldn't make out his expression. "She had her girls after I had Joanna, I guess that pushed her into thinking about the future. I don't know. They've been good to me, that's what matters."

"I can understand not wanting to leave that," Jim said. "The Enterprise is like that for me, now. We've become a family, I suppose you can say, though it's never felt complete."

What was there to respond to Jim admitting there was a Bones-shaped hole in his life? Leonard couldn't think of anything, and just kept walking.

Jim let out a sigh. "Look, I know it's difficult. God knows, it's difficult for everyone, but I understand what you're going through."

That made Leonard glance over. "I don't think so, Jim."

"Well, okay," Jim amended. "Not exactly what you're going through, but we've all lost something. Life is about moving on, Bones."

"I don't want to be lectured to," Leonard said, "and I should tell you that you've done more than enough for today."

"I'm not, I'm just..." Jim flailed his arms for a moment. "I miss you, okay? Having you in my life throughout the academy is the main reason why I made it. You grounded me, Bones. It was a good deal for the two of us, and I feel like I'm flying blind sometimes. Hikaru's a good friend, and I wouldn't trade his friendship for the world, but I need you there, too."

That was Jim Kirk, always finding the right words to say just when Leonard least wanted to hear them. He sighed, desperately wanting Jim to shut the hell up, and realized they were situated near one of the bars that he sometimes frequented – but never to get shitfaced. That only happened at home.

"Let me buy you a drink," he said, indicating the doorway.

Jim looked interested. "Is that place any good?"

"Barely respectable," Leonard said, "but they've got a decent selection of drinks."

"Then let's go in," Jim told him.

The interior was dark compared to the outside, and the early hour meant that only a few patrons were frequenting the bar. The layout always reminded Leonard of the places he’d frequented around Riverside the two nights before enlisting, especially in the one that catered to the workers who built starships. The decoration was comfortable, with seats that offered either companionship or solitude, depending on the mood of the customer. Leonard usually occupied a stool, hunched in on himself against the noise, but today Jim was leading him to a booth.

A moment later, he realized the booth had a direct line of sight to the door as well as with the bartender. There was a logic to the choice that he didn’t want to parse at the moment.

Jim slid into the booth, leaving the other seat open, and Leonard decided he needed a moment. “I’m going to use the facilities.”

That earned him a concerned look. “Okay. What’ll you have?”

“Whatever’s on tap,” Leonard told him.

“No bourbon?” Jim asked, the frown deepening.

Leonard allowed himself a slight smile. “Besides being outrageously expensive, it makes me sick to my stomach these days.”

He had to flee before he could see Jim’s reaction, and he went to lock himself in the small men’s bathroom. Pressing his back against the door, he took a few breaths, and tried to sort through what he was feeling. What was going on with his life? He wasn’t ready to make any decisions about anything, and in the same day he was being offered a permanent position at the clinic – that would require him to come clean with his identity – and Jim fucking Kirk had come to drag him back to the Enterprise.

He’d blame it on his stars or something ridiculous like that, but he didn't know if the constellations over Centaurus counted for anything.

Feeling a little more steady, he took his time relieving himself, and then washed his face. As he reached for towels to pat himself dry, he avoided looking at his reflection. When he took a deep breath, it helped him feel steady, and he finally felt ready to emerge to rejoin Jim at the booth.

Their drinks were already there, and when Jim spotted him, there was a look that could only be relief. His words didn't betray that, however, as he quipped, "Thought you'd fallen in."

Leonard rolled his eyes, and the thought occurred that he'd done more of that in one day than he had in months. "I'm sure you would've loved the chance to rescue me."

"Right there with the life preserver," Jim promised, and leaned into the table as he watched Leonard sit down. "You okay?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Leonard reached for his pint, and considered it again. Jim was here, they were sitting in the same place, and the world hadn't ended. This time. He allowed himself a moment of optimism, even as he knew he wasn't ready to make any decisions yet. "I think so."

"You sure about that?' Jim asked.

"No," Leonard said, and that might've been the most honest thing he'd said all day. "No, but it'll do."

"I suppose that's good enough." Jim held up his glass and tapped it gently against Leonard's, with a happy, open smile that made his eyes shine even in the dim overhead lights. "To keeping sane."

It was tempting to roll his eyes again, but Leonard decided to amend the toast with something a little more appropriate. "To persistent friends."

This time, Jim's smile was no less bright even as it was covered with foam.


	4. Day by Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has to get to know Leonard McCoy all over again.

After their first pint, they fell into an easy silence.  Jim couldn't help replaying the toast in his mind, turning the words and analyzing every possible meaning.  Yeah, persistence was a good way to describe his attitude at the moment, but was it being seen as a good quality or a bad one?  When he had his mind set on something, he could pursue it with dogged determination; graduating the Academy's four-year program in three years wasn't for the faint of heart.  But that wasn't the same as trying to convince his friend that it was time to come back to the life he'd left behind.

 

It was a little like coaxing a nervous dog into being petted, Jim thought for a few moments, and although that wasn’t a complementary way of describing Bones' decision to cut himself loose from Starfleet a year ago, there were similarities.  Jim remembered being a kid when Sam brought home a stray, a nervous dog that snapped whenever Jim came close.  With his mom's guidance, Jim learned to patiently allow the dog to come to him.

 

And maybe from the small smile that tugged at the corner of Bones' lips when he'd uttered the toast that his persistence was finally paying off.

 

Maybe.

 

He found himself watching the other occupants of the bar as more people filtered in as the afternoon dragged on.  Most were clearly coming off shift, looking for companionship and escape before heading home.  Jim wondered if any were newcomers to Centaurus, and whether the Enterprise had evacuated them from their homes.  He didn't think so, but he couldn't be sure.  It was also a thought pattern he wanted to avoid.

 

A part of him was surprised that no one from the ship had wandered in yet.  He began to formulate a question, wondering how far this was from the beaten path, when Bones stirred from where he was staring down at his glass.

 

"I suppose you wouldn't want to stay for supper?" he asked.

 

Jim startled. "Supper?"

 

"At my sister's house," Bones said.  "I expect it's been a while since you've had a home-cooked meal."

 

That was a good observation, and the truth was that Jim could barely remember the last time he'd eaten something that didn't come from a replicator.  There'd been cooks at the Academy, but when it came to actual food prepared in a kitchen by people he actually knew, the last meal had probably been the one and only time he'd been to Georgia with Bones.

 

"Who's making supper?" Jim asked.

 

Bones shrugged.  "I will.  Might as well.  I know what you're allergic to, and Donna'll appreciate not having to make something completely different for you.  Anyway, you'll get to meet my nieces and my brother-in-law."

 

"Sure."  It felt very oddly like going home to meet the family.  Jim pushed his empty pint glass away and stretched.  "I won't say no to food, especially if you're making it."

 

Bones looked more pleased than annoyed, even as he rolled his eyes.  "It won't be anything fancy."

 

"Doesn't need to be," Jim said, because even a simple meal would be delicious.

 

"Flirt," Bones teased, but kept his usual straight face.

 

"Another pint?" Jim asked.

 

Bones finished his pint, and shrugged.  "Why not?  I'm drinking with company, that's all right."

 

The comment felt odd, but Jim wasn't in the mood to try to parse that particular wording.  Instead, he waved at the barkeep and motioned for two more beers.  Bones was watching him, Jim noticed, and now that he'd invited Jim for dinner, he seemed to be preparing himself to broach something new for discussion.  Jim gave him the time to put the thoughts together, and probably his nerves.

 

Sure enough, once their drinks were served, Bones began speaking.  "Listen, I know that as much as we're mending our friendship, I also know you want me to go back with you to the Enterprise.  You haven't said it yet, but I know it's there.  So you should know that while I'm not ready to say yes yet, I'm also not ready to say no."

 

A big giant maybe, and for the moment, Jim wasn't going to argue.  It was light years from his mood ten months ago, but far from where he'd rather have him.  He simply nodded before adding his own input.  "You should know that if you do agree to resume your commission, I know for a fact that you won't have any consequences.  If I understand it correctly, you'd get your rank back, you wouldn't have to leave the ship, though your job description might have to change based on personnel changes that've been made since we relaunched."

 

Bones' eyebrows went up.  "They'll just accept me like that?"

 

"Think of it as an amnesty," Jim said.  "That's how they made it sound, anyway.  But if they find you, that won't be the case.  You'll get a court-martial, and then you'll serve wherever you're needed.  Might be a starship, might be a base somewhere.  You won't get the say, and you also might not get the same kind of job you're qualified to do."

 

He played with his glass, running a finger around the rim.  "I see.  Well, the way I see it then, is that I have two choices other than rejoining Starfleet.  I was offered the clinic today."  Bones looked faintly amused.  "I've been doing a good job, it seems, and the staff feels confident in giving the reins over to me when they open a second clinic somewhere in the settlements."

 

"Well, you are good," Jim said.

 

That earned a small smile.  "Well, it hardly matters when I'm not even registered as a doctor right now.  It isn't busy, no one's checking our license right now.  Even the most inefficient government knows to focus their concern on the incoming populations.  Heck, the last thing I heard, they were going to make the new towns in areas that've just started their summer season so they have months before they'll be in dire need of shelter.  No one's paying attention to the one lone doctor just doing what he can."

 

"But if this doctor happens to be in charge of the clinic?" Jim asked.

 

Bones sighed.  "The questions might get raised.  I'll have to renew my license under my real name, and the red flags will go up."

 

"And Starfleet will come swooping in, and grab you anyway," Jim finished.

 

"Looks like it."  Bones shrugged, and drained half of his pint.  He wiped the foam from his mustache and shrugged.  "So I need to think about my options."

 

"Promise me something?" Jim asked, and waited for Bones to look at him.  "If you say no, don't go back to someplace where I can't find you."

 

"Depends," Bones said, with a bitter twist to his lips.  "Wouldn't that be considered aiding and abetting a fugitive?"

 

Probably, but now wasn't the moment to care about that.  Jim reached across the table to grasp his hand, and while he almost expected Bones to pull away, he allowed himself a solid moment of triumph when Bones didn't flinch from the contact.  "Whatever.  I'm not going to lie.  I'm just happy you're just not booting me out the door."

 

"Maybe once you're fed," Bones said.  "I'll see how I feel then."

 

They finished their drinks, and then they bickered for a few moments about who was going to pay.  They'd done that countless times at the Academy, and Jim used the best of convoluted logic to make sure that it was his credits that were used.  Bones rolled his eyes, and admitted defeat before heading for the door.  Jim watched him go for a moment, wanting to imagine for a moment that they were back on Earth, in a random bar they'd picked to get away from campus, and then they'd walk back – well, they weren't drunk enough to do it arm-in-arm, but something close.

 

His good mood faded when he stepped outside, and saw Bones' suddenly rigid stance.  A heartbeat later, he realized Bones wasn't alone.  He was standing with Hikaru Sulu and Pavel Chekov.  Jim stepped up his pace; he didn't know how well Bones knew Pavel, but he knew that he and Hikaru had shared one or two classes back at the Academy.  That meant that while Pavel was waving his hands enthusiastically as he spoke, Hikaru was eyeing Bones with concerned interest.

 

"This is a very nice city," Pavel was saying.  "Reminds me of Russia."

 

Despite the stiff set of his shoulders, Bones managed a faint smile.  "Does it, now."  That wasn't a question.

 

Jim quickly sets in to join them.  "Gentlemen, fancy meeting you here."

 

The look of relief on Hikaru's face was almost mirrored by the one on Bones'.  "Jim, there you are.  We're on our way to meet a few of the crew at something called the Manx --"

 

"A restaurant," Bones added.

 

"That's right," Hikaru continued.  "At a restaurant called the Manx, but we're got a few hours to kill so we're taking in the sights, such as they are."

 

"Did you know the colony plan is based on that from St. Petersburg?" Pavel asked him.  "Albeit, this is a much smaller scale."

 

"So he says," Hikaru said.  "The two of you are welcome to join us, and everyone will be happy to see you, Len.  Christine Chapel's supposed to be joining us, and she'd love to catch up with you.  We all would.  You've been missed."

 

It was pretty clear he was touched by the words, but Bones kept his gaze fixed on the road.  "I appreciate the offer, but not yet.  Maybe another time."

 

"And I might go later," Jim said.  He knew he didn't have to explain the situation yet.  "I'll send you a message first if I do."

 

"Doctor," Pavel suddenly said, with an intent look.  "I heard there is an Earth memorial here in the city.  I wish to visit before we leave.  Do you know where it is?"

 

Bones nodded.  "It's two blocks over, near the central administration building."

 

Watching as Bones point to the left from their location, Pavel nodded briefly.  "Would you join me for this, Doctor?  I would appreciate company."

 

The request seemed to surprise him, and Bones looked up, staring at the younger man for a long moment.  When he replied, his voice was soft.  "Not tonight," he said, dropping his gaze, "but I suppose I could see you there tomorrow morning, if you don't mind waiting until then?"

 

Jim shot him a glance of surprise, which Bones seemed to ignore.  Pavel, on the other hand, brightened.   "Thank you, I will certainly wait until then."

 

"Okay," Bones said.  "Jim can contact you with the details.  Otherwise, I should be getting along.  It's nice to see you both, and Jim, if you want to stay with them, don't feel obligated to say with him."

 

"You're feeding me dinner," Jim said, pretending to take offence.  "You're stuck with me."

 

"Don't I know it," Bones said.

 

*

 

"That was slightly awkward."

 

It was Bones who broke the silence on the way back to the Withers house.  Jim had tagged along, happy to give Bones the silence he probably needed after their afternoon out; he was half surprised to hear Bones say anything conversational at all before they reached their destination.

 

"Running into the crew?" Jim asked.

 

"Yeah."  Bones shrugged a little, hands shoved deeply into his pockets.  "It's going to make pretending you've never seen me rather difficult if I do decide to stay here.  And anyway, I just didn't have it in me to go tonight."

 

That could've meant one of two things, and Jim decided to hedge his bets on the more social of his options.  "Having drinks with them?"

 

"No," Bones said, and then seemed to reconsider.  "I mean, yeah, that would've been weird.  I'm not in the mood for that much company right about now, though it would've been nice to see probably half the people who were there.  I was talking about the memorial, anyway."

 

"I imagine it's an intense place," Jim said.

 

"Very intense," Bones agreed.  "There are days I can handle it without an issue, and there are other times I've gone in there and felt like I'm breaking apart."

 

"You're still grieving," Jim said.  "I know that's why you're an emotional rollercoaster, Bones.  I saw my mom going through it when I was a kid.  Most of the time she'd be okay, but some of my earliest memories are from times when she'd hold me, squeezing me, and crying.  A few hours later, or the next day, she'd be fine.  She was all over the place.  Everyone does it at their own pace, too."

 

"Right," Bones said, and he was clearly relieved he didn't have to explain to him.  Instead, he changed the topic.  "So is Chekov finally old enough to drink?"

 

"You think that stopped him before?" Jim scoffed.

 

"Probably not," Bones admitted.  "Certainly didn't stop me, but you're all supposed to be responsible adults."

 

"They even gave us a starship, I know!" Jim said, laughing.  "Besides, the little shit drank me under the table while he was still seventeen.  It was close, though, and if it weren't for that stupid sweater I tripped over..."

 

"You tripped over clothing while drinking?" Bones scoffed.  "See, I told you there was a reason why you needed to keep shit off the floor."

 

"So you may have been right about one thing," Jim said.

 

"It's moments like these I wish I still had a padd," Bones said, glancing back with eyes twinkling.  "I'd replay that line whenever I needed a pick-me-up.  Jim Kirk admitting there are people in the world who know more than he does will do wonders for my morale."

 

"I still have all the times listed where you'd say you'd never do something, and yet you did," Jim said.  "Like your flying lessons, for example."

 

"You could use those databytes for something more important," Bones said.

 

"Can't imagine what," Jim teased.

 

"So how long is your shore leave, by the way?" Bones asked, glancing at him.

 

"We report back tomorrow night," Jim said.

 

"Then you'd might as well stay the night, too," Bones said.

 

"I thought you were going to decide after feeding me," Jim said, hiding his smile.

 

Bones shrugged.  "My Southern sensibilities kicked in.  You may have imposed yourself, but I'm not turning out on the street.  There's room in the basement where I'm staying."

 

"Aw, Bones, you're a sweetheart," Jim teased, and enjoyed the look Bones gave him just a little too much.  "I promise not to tell anyone."

 

This time, he got an honest laugh out of Bones, and Jim decided to take that as a good omen as they turned the corner; the house was in sight down the road.  Two little girls were playing on the front lawn, and when they spotted Bones heading their way, they both shouted out Bones' name.  He was swarmed a moment later, and as he caught them and let them wrestle him to the grass.  Bones looked happier as he listened to their chatter, and Jim could see a definite family resemblance between them, especially in the older girl who seemed to have inherited Bones' upturned nose.

 

The girls noticed Jim a moment later, and both fell silent immediately.  The younger one ducked behind Bones, peering around from time to time before hiding again.

 

"Who is that, Uncle Len?" the older girl asked.

 

"This is Jim Kirk," Bones said.  "He's one of my friends.  I went to school with him, and he's visiting Centaurus.  I haven't seen him in a while, so he'll be staying with us until tomorrow.  Jim, this is Emma, and the one back here is Miss Georgia."

 

Emma was polite as she shook Jim's hand, while Georgia waved from behind Bones' shoulder.  While she was much fairer than her sister and uncle, she had the stronger likeness to her late cousin – right down to the shyness.  Jim crouched down, remembering how he'd had to win Joanna over the first time they'd met, and prepared himself for the same challenge as he smiled.

 

"Why hello, Miss Georgia," he said, and held out his hand.  She looked at his hand, but didn't move to grasp it.  Instead, she fixed him with a wary green stare.  "Is that your bicycle over there?"

 

She nodded.

 

"I like it a lot," he said.  "I had one that looked a lot like it when I was your age.  It had three wheels and everything, except mine was green."

 

That drew her interest, and when she smiled, he could see that some of her baby teeth were missing.  It made a lisp as she spoke.  "Blue's my favourite colour."

 

"I can see that," he said.

 

"Come on, girls, let's go inside," Bones interrupted.  He let Georgia climb up on his back, and got to his feet.  She hung on for dear life during the piggyback, but kept looking behind to watch as Jim followed.  Emma was in the lead, and she regaled them with the details of her school day.

 

She paused long enough to point at Jim's shoes once they passed the threshold.  "Shoes off, Jim."

 

"Yes, ma'am," Jim said, and then mouthed across to Bones.  "Drill sergeant."

 

Bones just smirked, again.

 

"Mama!" Emma continued, "we've got company!"

 

When she came to meet them, Donna looked at Jim with a raised eyebrow, but she seemed pleased with Bones' attitude.  She made an exaggerated huff as he transferred Georgia into her arms.  "Good heavens, Len, what's this that you found outside?"

 

"A very funny-looking growth," Bones said.

 

"I'd say so," Donna said, and pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek to lessen any sting.  "Well, did you two have fun this afternoon?"

 

"I guess you could say I did," Jim said as he finished removing his last shoe.  "It's a nice place."

 

"I'll go make dinner," Bones said.  "Jim's staying over for dinner."

 

"Be my guest," she said, and then leaned in closer to Jim once she thought Bones was out of earshot.  "I take it your talk went well?"

 

Jim had to shrug.  "Hard to say, but I think I might be getting somewhere."

 

"I'll say," she said, setting Georgia down and letting her girls run off.  "This is the first time Lenny's offered to make dinner when it's not his scheduled time.  I'm going to take that as a positive right now."

 

"Agreed," he said, and then he nudged her with his elbow.  "So did you really teach him how to fetch?"

 

Her hazel eyes twinkled.  "You bet I did, and while I eventually forgave Mama and Daddy for bringing Lenny home, I decided to make the most of it.  Besides, how else do you wear out a two-year-old?  He was so damn eager to please, anyway.  Still is, in his curmudgeonly way."

 

That was a very good point, and Donna left him to go check in on her girls.  Jim wandered to the bathroom, wanting to freshen up a bit before dinner.  He washed his hands after relieving himself, and then he heard a beep; realizing it was his comm, he pulled it out.

 

"Kirk here," he said.  "This had better be good, Enterprise, I'm on leave."

 

"Clearly," Spock said.  "However, I require your input on a few issues."

 

He sighed, sitting on the closed toilet.  "Let's hear it."

 

The consult didn't take too long, and Jim could hear the faint relief in Spock's voice when he repeated Jim's recommendations.  "Very logical, Commander."

 

"Why thank you, Captain."  Jim allowed himself a chuckle, and then realized, he'd have to come clean with Spock eventually about whose company he was in.  "Listen, Spock, I need to tell you as a friend that I've located Leonard McCoy."

 

This time, he could hear the concern.  "Is he well?"

 

"As good as might be expected," Jim said.  "He's okay.  I told him he's welcome back aboard the ship, but I don't know if he'll accept it.  He's thinking about it."

 

Spock was silent for a few moments.  "Perhaps if I were to discuss it with the doctor in my capacity as captain?"

 

It couldn't hurt, but Jim wasn't sure how to set it up without making it obvious.  He had an idea a second later.  "We're going to a memorial tomorrow morning for everyone who died on Earth.  I think you should come.  You should come anyway, because of your mom, but it might give you a chance to talk then."

 

"I will endeavour to be there," Spock said.  "I will leave you to your visit.  Spock out."

 

*

 

The girls were more interested in their televised programming than in their guest, but that suited Jim just fine.  He sat at the kitchen table again, with Donna beside him and more glasses of sweet tea, and they chatted idly with Bones while he worked.  The banter between the siblings was sharp and enjoyable, and the interaction made Jim miss the better moments of being in his brother's company.

 

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing there, Lenny?" Donna asked, pointing at the tray.

 

"Making squash," he said, arranging two halves on a tray.  "I didn't realize it was that difficult to figure out."

 

"That ain't squash," she said.

 

Bones stabbed it with a fork.  "Then whatever the hell it is, I'm baking it."

 

"Knock yourself out," she told him.  "You can replicate some spaghetti sauce in a few seconds if it turns out badly."

 

"Drink your sweet tea," Bones said.  "Besides, I'm a doctor, not a chef."

 

"Clearly."  Donna took a sip of tea, and leaned toward Jim.  "Our dad used to say that all the time.  I'm a doctor, not a taxi service.  Drove our mother nuts and she'd whack him on the ass every time he said it."

 

Jim wasn't sure how to answer that, given how their father's illness had torn them apart.  He was saved by the sound of the front door opening, and the girls shouted out greetings to their own dad as they tore themselves away from the screen.

 

"Come on," Donna said, and motioned for Jim to follow.  With a glance at Bones, Jim saw him nod encouraging to go on.

 

Fred Withers was tall and heavy-set, and with a thick shock of hair that reminded Jim somewhat of his brother.  He had an armful of his children, and as Donna approached, he tilted his head up for a kiss.  A perfect picture of domesticity, and for the first time, Jim found himself wondering what Fred thought of his brother-in-law.

 

"So you must be Jim Kirk," he greeted a moment later, getting to his feet with one daughter clinging to his back and the other in his arms.

 

Jim extended his hand, and found it gripped in a firm grip.  "Pleased to meet you."

 

"He went to school with Uncle Len," Emma said from his back.  "He's also staying for supper."

 

"Is he now?"  Fred made a show of setting the girls down.  "Go and wash up, and then see if your uncle needs any help setting the table.  Jim, can I get you a drink?"

 

"Thanks," Jim said, and followed him into the living room.  There was a bottle of generic whiskey, and Fred handed over a glass a few moments later.  "I take it you know about your wife's plan to invite me over?"

 

Fred smiled, and tapped his glass against Jim's.  "I know nothing."

 

"Of course," Jim laughed.

 

"So what do you think of our little colony?" Fred asked, taking a seat in a well-worn armchair.  "Well, not so little now, but it's an interesting place these days."

 

"Leonard took me on a tour," Jim said.  "A lot's changed since the first time I came here, but then again, I was confined mostly to the base."

 

"First the Mars and Moon colonies were resettled here," Fred said, stretching out his legs, "and that was hectic enough because of the issue of the proximity to the black hole.  That I understand.  Now everyone else is making their way here.  We're building more than we probably can sustain.  The Federation council thankfully won't meet any time soon, mostly because there's nothing big enough to hold it other than the local high school gymnasium.,"

 

Jim grinned at the idea.  "The President could stand under the basketball net."

 

"I could see that.  Once they appoint the new one," Fred said, with the weighted emphasis that universally referred to what used to be on Earth, "I'm sure it'll be trying to do business as usual.  Shouldn't be long from what I hear, though the current rumours are they'll pick a Vulcan.  My credit's on an Andorian being appointed, though."

 

"The Vulcans are too busy with their own colony at the moment, so I agreed with you there."  Jim shrugged after a moment.  "I just hope it's someone who's got the vision to find us a new way out of this mess."

 

"From your lips to God's ears.  How have you found it out there?" Fred asked.  "I imagine there's things you can't mention, but it's more the general morale I'm interested in, I suppose."

 

Jim considered that for a moment.  "It's pretty much the same thing all over.  If they're a recent transplant, the people are in shock, and the same maybe for the second generation.  If the colony's been there for over forty years, they're disturbed but it's not really the same thing.  They're also less likely to move if it's a situation where we need to secure the perimeter."

 

Nodding, Fred sipped his drink.  "It's going to be interesting to see how they'll adjust to being here."

 

"Well, not all the colonies were uprooted," Jim said.  "Some of them refused to leave, and we couldn't exactly move them by force."

 

"So they're alone out there?" Fred looked uneasy.

 

It was the last thing Jim wanted to think about tonight.  "For now," he confirmed, and tried to leave it be.

 

*

 

Despite the earlier bickering, dinner ended up tasting pretty good, and Jim went back for seconds of the baked not-squash.  The girls talked for most of the meal, with Emma asking Jim questions about space and being on the Enterprise.  They’d been more interested in their program earlier, but now Jim was the centre of their attention; even Georgia was listening and seemed fascinated.

 

Bones just smiled.

 

As Fred took the girls upstairs to begin the bedtime routine, Donna shooed the two of them from the kitchen.  "You cooked, I clean," she said to Bones, "and Jim's the guest.  Go get him settled downstairs, and we'll see you in the morning."

 

The staircase to the basement was connected directly to the kitchen, so Bones ushered him down first before shutting the door behind them.  The lights flickered on as they descended, and then Jim had his first chance to eye the place Bones called home.  The room was sparsely decorated, which didn't surprise him, but there were pictures of Joanna adorning almost every surface.  Jim recognized a few of the images, but there was one of Bones and a baby Joanna that he'd never seen before.  He went to pick it up, and smiled at the face of a Bones he'd never met.

 

"There's the sofa if you want to sleep on it," Bones was saying.  "Unless you'd rather take the floor, but I'd seriously recommend against it.  It gets a little damp when you're lying on it too long."

 

That sounded like the voice of experience, and it made Jim wince.  He turned to face Bones, who had an armful of blankets and just looked at him with wide hazel eyes.

 

"The sofa's fine," Jim said, setting down the picture with a smile.

 

"Okay."  Bones set down the blankets, and then he just stood there.  The figurative elephant that Jim had been avoiding was now in the room, and couldn't be ignored, not now.

 

"What do you want, Bones?" Jim asked.

 

He sighed.  "I don't know.  Why did you have to come find me?"

 

The question was rhetorical, but Jim had to give it an answer.  "I think you know why."

 

"I was doing okay," he continued, as though Jim hadn't said anything.  "I was handling it.  I found a way to cope and make it through the day while trying to help out.  Now, you have to come back and throw everything up in the air again."

 

"It isn't me that you're hiding from, Bones," Jim said, and he was relieved to see a smaller flinch than he was expecting.  "Then again, maybe I'm just the representative of what you fled, but the point is, I'm here.  We had a good day together, and I still care a hell of a lot about you.  I want to help you, however I can.  I always have.  Tell me how I can help you, so I can make it better."

 

Bones looked like he wanted to snap something in reply, but instead he straightened his shoulders as he took a few steps forward and pulled Jim into a kiss.  It wasn't hesitant, and there was an intensity that Jim didn't really remember from their previous times together – especially the last time they'd been together.

 

That was fine with him.  Grinning into the kiss, Jim wrapped an arm around Bones' waist and moved them physically until he had Bones' back against the wall.  Without moving away, he murmured, "Is this what you want?"

 

"Yes, damn it," Bones replied, breath quickening as he tried kissing Jim again.  He made a frustrated noise as Jim kept just out of reach.  "Jim, come on.  I missed you, you child."

 

"You missed me?" Jim knew he was grinning even further.

 

Bones let out an exasperated sigh and brought his hand up to grasp Jim's hair at the back of his head.  "I think we already talked about that, didn't we?"

 

"Yeah, but that was when we were talking about our friendship," Jim said, knowing he looked like a kid who'd won the best prize ever at the fair.  He nuzzled the side of Bones' face.  "Now we're really getting into the Biblical territory."

 

"When you put it that way, it doesn't really make me want to stay there," Bones said, voice dry, but Jim knew he was being teased.  Bones tried to move away, but Jim didn't budge.  "You're not going to make me wrestle again, are you?"

 

Jim grinned in memory of trying to teach Bones self-defence moves.  "But that was so much fun."

 

"Because you don't mind the odd bruise, moron."  Bones tried shoving him away, but the attempt was half-hearted.  "If we actually wrestled, we'll have my family down here in a minute if we make too much noise.  That's not really the impression I'd like to make with them, y'know?  That goes for anything, actually."

 

"What if we try something else a little more quiet?" Jim asked.

 

"Like what?" Bones said, suspicious.

 

"You've got a very healthy imagination," Jim said, nuzzling the skin next to his ear.  "I'm sure you can think of something that might fit into the description of quiet."

 

"Mmmm."  Bones closed his eyes, enjoying the moment.  "I guess I could."

 

"One thing first," Jim said, with a smile.  He leaned in to bite Bones' earlobe, before murmuring.  "I really, really want you to shave.  Just because I don't want any raw skin in awkward places, you know?"

 

He was relieved when Bones smiled.  "Okay, fine.  I guess it's time to get rid of the hermit look."

 

"Crazy hermit," Jim corrected.

 

"Whatever."  Bones sought out another kiss, and then gently disengaged from Jim.  He gently traced his fingers over any reddened skin around his lips.  "There's some cream on the bedside table if you need it.  Give me a few minutes, okay?"

 

"Sure."  Jim stepped back and let him go.

 

In the meantime, as the shower started, he wandered around the rest of the basement and the almost empty bedroom.  There were two books on the bedside table, none of them particularly interesting, but he picked one up anyway after stripping off his shirt.

 

A good ten minutes passed before he saw movement from the bathroom.  He looked up to see Bones with a towel around his waist, standing in the doorway.  He looked hesitant, but Jim couldn't stop staring.  Bones' cheeks were smooth, and while his bangs were damp and hanging in his eyes, this was the Leonard McCoy who had walked away a year ago.  Jim grinned at him and held out his hand.

 

"Ready to do this quietly?" Jim asked.

 

"I don't know, it's been a long day..." Bones began, clearly having second thoughts about the two of them.

 

Jim just grinned as he unfastened the towel, letting it drop down to Bones' feet.  "I don't know, I think I sense a second wind coming on," he said, smoothing a hand down the smooth skin of Bones' flank.

 

"Do you now?"

 

"Definitely," Jim said, grasping Bones' hand and tugging him down onto the bed.  He smiled at the sight of Bones' naked body kneeling forward over him, straddling his hips.  "There's definitely some wind in my sails, can't you tell?"

 

Bones rolled his eyes.  "Turn the charm back down to one, Jim."

 

"Aw," Jim pouted, and then leaned up so they were kissing again.

 

And there was it was, the easy connection he'd always felt with Bones.  Now that the sense of urgency was over, the comfort Jim remembered had returned.  Jim lay back, arranging himself so Bones could lie against him, heavy and familiar.  The change in angle made Bones give a soft sound of protest, but after Jim smoothed a hand against his back in apology, quieted down until it was Jim's turn to suddenly snicker, appreciating the absurdity of their situation.

 

They were two grown men making out in the family basement.  It was like being a teenager all over again and worried his date's parents were going to walk in on them.  Just, of course, in the form of two little girls who might wonder why their uncle was making funny noises.  That, more than anything, made Jim able to tune down the volume and hide his laughter.

 

"Sorry," he murmured.

 

He concentrated on the little things he remembered about Bones, like the way he liked having a hand in his hair as he was kissed.  Jim fingered the soft strands, knowing how it would look later after they were done and it would stand in every direction; he loved the feel of the hairs tapering down at the back of his neck, and how Bones would shiver -- just like that -- as the sensitive points were touched.

 

He bit off a moan as he felt Bones reach down to tug at the waistband of his pants, and then he had to laugh at the impatient noise Bones made.   He kept his voice low, though it sounded rough, as he pulled away.  "Looking for something?"

 

Bones' pupils were widened, drowning out the hazel until there was almost nothing left.  "Take 'em off."

 

"Not even a please?" Jim scoffed, though he had every intention of getting rid of them.  He sat up slowly as Bones slipped to the side, waiting for him with an impatient look.  "Forgot how pushy you were."

 

"Because that's such a horrible thing, I know," Bones snarked.  "Considering where your damn cock will be in a few moments."

 

Jim couldn't help the thrill in his gut as he heard that.  "Really."

 

"Really," Bones repeated, and then gestured at the old-looking dresser set next to the bed.  "I've got lube in there."

 

It was possibly the smallest container Jim had ever seen, and it was barely used.  Jim glanced at Bones for a second, hoping this was a brand new tube instead of something rarely used.  He decided he didn't want to know, and instead squeezed out enough to coat his fingers.

 

"Do you have a particular position in mind?" Jim asked.

 

Bones shrugged.  "Leaning over me is fine."

 

"Works for me," Jim said, shuffling forward on his knees as Bones let his legs fall apart.  He leaned in, feeling Bones' cock bump against his own, and went after one of his nipples with his teeth.  He remembered Bones liking that before, and his memory hadn't failed him; as he listened to Bones try to keep quiet, and almost succeed, Jim eased his fingers inside and was relieved to find Bones almost relaxed enough.  "How are you doing?"

 

Bones bit his lower lip, looking down at Jim through his lashes.  "Like riding a bicycle."

 

"That so?" Jim grinned, and then he nibbled at the pink flush building slowly in Bones' chest.  "Well, I guess instead of two wheels, there are still two round things..."

 

"Don't make me laugh," Bones warned, though he clearly was.

 

Jim couldn't resist.  He reached for another kiss, using his lips to chase the laughter away, and eased himself into Bones' body.  He heard and felt Bones inhaling deeply as the penetration started, and groaning softly just as Jim edged his way to completion.

 

"Oh," was all Bones could manage.

 

"Shh," Jim grinned.

 

"Fuck off," Bones said, and then gasped as Jim moved again.

 

"If you say so," Jim said, and started to find a rhythm.

 

Maybe it wasn't exactly like riding a bike, but it was a familiar pace that Jim hadn't realized he'd missed until now.  He brought one of Bones' legs up so the knee was hooked over his shoulder, and grasped the other one by the calf to set his pace.

 

Beneath him, Bones grasped the sheet with one hand, and held the back of Jim's neck with the other.  His eyes were screwed shut, mouth open between hot, lazy kisses, and Jim wished he could keep that moment when everything else burned away.

 

He felt the tension building in Bones' body in the way his ass was clenching and the pressure of his leg against his shoulder.  It felt like edging up on Jim's stamina, challenging it to go further and longer, and Jim tried to stave off his own needs as he pushed Bones toward the edge.

 

He mouthed along his jawline, nipping at freckles and smooth skin, and listened to the half-formed moans that came out as gasps.   A little like a beached fish, though the thought bothered him only for a few seconds before he heard Bones murmur something incomprehensible.  A heartbeat later, he was coming into the warm space between their bodies.

 

Jim left a kiss first next to Bones' mouth, then the soft skin below his jaw, and finally down toward the centre of his chest.  He glanced up at the relaxed skin between his eyebrows, pleased at the change, and then hoisted the second leg to join the first.  He found it easier to lean against Bones' thighs, and shifted his hands to either side of Bones' body.  He had the angle and the traction he needed.

 

"You okay?" Jim asked, hearing the rasp of his whisper.

 

"Yeah," Bones murmured, opening one eye.  “I feel like a pretzel, and you need to finish before my legs to go sleep, but I'm okay.  Keep going."

 

Grinning at him, Jim started moving again, and this time, he felt Bones' heels pressing against his shoulder blades, urging him to continue.  He closed his eyes, centering on the moment and how it felt to be with him again, and then he felt a hand tugging on his hair.  A second later, he was leaning down and kissing Bones again; it was different this time, but he wasn't able to think about why as he lost himself in the rush of the moment.

 

And it was probably the corniest thought he'd ever had while having sex, and that was probably why he sprawled against Bones afterward, chuckling into the hollow of his throat.  He didn't stop even when an arm went around his shoulders, and he felt lips against his temple.

 

"What?" Bones finally asked, sounding sleepy.

 

"We're good together," Jim said.

 

There was a non-committal sound, but Bones wasn't moving.

 

"And I want to do this again," Jim added.

 

This time, Bones snorted.  "Later, dear."

 

Jim nudged him enough to tickle.  "I heard that sarcasm, Bones."

 

"Means you're not deaf, then," Bones said, squirming, and then yawned.  Jim swore he heard a creak somewhere.  "I want to sleep first, though.  Seriously.  Or else I'm kicking you out onto the floor."

 

"You drive a hard bargain," Jim said, and shifted so he was pulling away from his body, and finding a more comfortable place to lie.  He felt Bones move, and he glanced up to see Bones reaching for a stray piece of laundry that he used to wipe their bellies before tossing the fabric across the room.  "And whatever happened to the clean-freak Bones I remember?"

 

Bones snorted as he lay back down and curled against Jim's side.  "Not talking about that right now."

 

"Okay."  Jim closed his eyes, and though he was certain he was going to lay awake for hours, he felt himself drift off immediately.

 

*

 

He woke up to a dark room, and an empty bed.

 

Jim lay there for a moment, taking the time for his brain to completely wake up before trying to remember where he was.  He wasn't in his quarters on the Enterprise, and a moment later, he recalled the details.  This was the tiny bed in the basement Bones was calling home on Centaurus.

 

And that by being alone in Bones' empty bed, it meant he was somewhere else.

 

Jim sat up, his eyes almost adjusted to the gloom, and glanced around.  The minefield of Bones' was barely visible in the pale moonlight drifting from the window at the top of the opposite wall.  Belatedly, he could make out a familiar shape seated on the floor, legs outstretched.

 

"Bones?" he called.

 

He thought he saw movement in the dark, and imagined it was Bones turning his face toward the bed.  "Go back to sleep, Jim."

 

"What are you doing over there?" Jim asked.

 

"I'm not used to sleeping with anyone these days," Bones said, voice still hushed.

 

"Neither am I, but that doesn't mean I don't want the company."  Jim stretched, and then made his way to the small bathroom.  He kept the light off as he relieved himself.  When he came back into the room, Bones hadn't moved.  Going over to kneel besides him, Jim ended up with something not too pleasant under his knee.  "Oh, ow, damn it!"

 

He felt Bones' hands, warm on his shoulders, helping him up.

 

"Sorry," Bones murmured.  "Maybe the bed's the safest place right now."

 

"You think?" Jim grumbled under his breath, but they moved together until the bed was flush against Jim's shins.  He sat down carefully, feeling for his knee; he was pretty sure it was okay, maybe a little bruised, but that didn't stop Bones from gently investigating with his fingers.

 

"You'll live," Bones declared.

 

"Oh, good," Jim said.  "Though I'd never say no to someone kissing it better."

 

"Of course you do," Bones said under his breath, but surprised Jim by leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the sore skin.  "That better?"

 

"Funny, you never offered to do that before," Jim said, amused and moved at the same time.  "Thank you."

 

Bones flashed him a slight smile.  "Get back under the covers."

 

"Only if you're going there, too," Jim said, knowing he sounded petulant, but he didn't like how Bones was pulling away to stand.

 

"In a minute," Bones said.  "I want to get socks before I put my cold feet on your warm shins."

 

"Cold feet, warm heart," Jim quipped.

 

He couldn't tell, but he was sure Bones was rolling his eyes.  "Yeah, whatever.  Just for that, I should just shove 'em where it's warm and listen to you wail."

 

"First do no harm, Bones, and that includes preventing my balls from disappearing into my gut because of your cold feet," Jim said, and the banter felt so easy.  He pulled the duvet over himself, and listened to Bones move in the dark.  Before long, he felt the bed move again as Bones slid into place with his head against Jim's shoulder and his feet safely at the bottom of the bed.  Jim ran a hand over Bones' shoulders, wondering when he'd put the shirt on, and tried to choose the next words carefully.  "So why were you up?"

 

Bones shrugged.  "I get insomnia sometimes."

 

"Happens to the best of us," Jim said.

 

"I suppose," Bones said, though he didn't sound convinced.  "I know I'm messed up, Jim, but as far as I'm concerned I damn well have a right to be.  I don't deserve to be here if it means my little girl's gone, and that's something I have to struggle with every single day."

 

Jim couldn't answer, knowing he'd never find the right words.  He put an arm around Bones' shoulders and brought the blanket closer around them.  He hoped that was the right thing to do.

 

"And this sounds silly," Bones said, voice even softer.  "Haven't told anyone, not sure why I want to tell you, but sometimes I feel like she's around.  Not always, just sometimes, and it's both the hardest thing in the universe and yet it's also the most comforting thing at the same time."

 

Jim let out a breath.  "I think she'd want you to be happy, Bones."

 

"I know."  Bones lay still for a long moment.  "It's something I'm learning to live with, but I know.  I just... sometimes I dream about her."

 

"Is that what woke you up?" Jim asked.

 

"Yeah."  Bones shifted closer.  "I dreamed that we somehow stopped Nero and everything was happily ever after.  We even had an actual graduation."

 

Thinking about the rough field promotions they'd all received and the gruff "congratulations" which meant at the same time "you're not dead, here's a job," Jim smiled to himself.  "I can picture that.  All the red uniforms, in alphabetical order, and lots of boring speeches."

 

"Best part about dreams, there weren't any boring parts," Bones said, with an amused snort.

 

"Of course not."  Jim waited.  "So we were graduating, and...?"

 

"Joanna got to sit with me," Bones said.  "I can still feel her sitting on my knee, and her arm around my neck.  It's so vivid, Jim, that a part of me wants to think that I'm really just dreaming.  I want to believe that if I wake up, I can make a call and there she'll be.  That it's just been one horrible dream."

 

"Maybe it is," Jim said.

 

"Maybe it is," Bones echoed, and then he heaved out a sigh that seemed to shake his entire body.  "I'm tired of crying, Jim."

 

"I know."  Jim paused, uncertain how his next words would be taken.  "You know, we have a memorial wall on the Enterprise, down by the chapel.  Friends and family right now, mostly, but eventually I can see anyone we lose being added over time.  I hope you don't mind, but I added Joanna's name in there.  I even light a candle for her, whenever there's a moment."

 

He felt Bones grasp for his hand, and then he shifted himself so he was curled along Jim's side.  "Thank you."

 

Jim smiled at the wet-sounding whisper.  "I know I'm luckier than most, but I've mourned for her, too."

 

Bones didn't reply, and Jim didn't push.  The growing wet spot on his shoulder was all the explanation he needed.  He reached up to brush fingers through Bones' hair again, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the soft sounds Bones was making.

 

"I just want to be here for you," Jim finally whispered to him.

 

The last time he'd voiced that thought, he'd been rejected.  This time, he felt Bones relax against him with a heart-felt sigh.  "Thank you."

 

Jim smiled.  "So in your dream, did you see your commission?"

 

Bones' laugh was warm against his skin, though his voice sounded stuffy now.  "Yeah, actually."

 

"And?"  Jim pressed his lips against Bones' temple.

 

"Why does it matter?" Bones asked.

 

"Because I'm curious to know if your subconscious assigned us to the same starship," Jim said.

 

Bones let out an amused huff.  "Fine, if only to quell your goddamn ego.  We both were assigned to the Enterprise.  I was a senior surgeon, but not the CMO.  You were tactical."

 

"And did Joanna have anything to say about where we were assigned?" Jim wondered.

 

"Yeah," he said, finally.  "I remember that most clearly, actually.  She said she approved, and that she was happy there was someone to watch out for me out there."

 

"Smart kid," Jim murmured, and then silence fell between them.  He could tell when Bones fell asleep by the steady breaths he made.  He adjusted the blankets around them one more time before closing his eyes.  Falling asleep was remarkably easy.

 

*

 

Waking up with Bones plastered against his side was a lot less awkward than Jim would've guessed.  He lay there, enjoying the warm weight of his body, and tried to ignore the light filtering through the window.  The sun on Centaurus was more orange than he would've liked, making him aware all over again that this wasn't Earth, and the intensity of the early-morning light made his eyes hurt.

 

Gradually, there were sounds of life coming from upstairs.  Heavy footsteps followed by lighter ones, and then the sound of voices.  Jim shifted so he could press his face into Bones' hair, wondering if he could catch a few more minutes of sleep.  The noise wasn't doing much to rouse Bones from his sleep, and he looked serene enough that it was inspiration for Jim to close his eyes and try to follow suit.

 

The door at the top of the stairs opened, and one of the girls -- probably Emma -- hollered down.  "Uncle Len!  Mama wants to know if your friend wants eggs for breakfast!"

 

Jim couldn't help grinning as the noise finally filtered through to Bones, who scrunched up his face with pathetic groan.

 

"Don't make me come down there and ask you again!" Emma continued.

 

"Fucking morning people," Bones muttered, then shifted to turn his face toward the stairs.  He managed to sound unaffected as he yelled back.  "Give me a second."

 

"That was your niece you were cursing about," Jim whispered.  "She's, what, eight?"

 

"And the mirror image of her mother at that age.  Now answer the question before I smother you with my bedspread," Bones threatened.  "Starfleet doesn't know you're here and it's not too hard to hide a body."

 

"Eggs are fine, Emma!" Jim called out.

 

"You won't get hives?" she queried.

 

"Nope!"

 

"What about toast?" Emma asked again.

 

"Toast is great," Jim said.

 

"Okay!"  The door slammed shut, and then Jim let himself laugh.

 

"What?" Bones grumped, and started to pull the comforter over his head.

 

"Your niece ever so kindly wants to make sure I don't die at their breakfast table, and you're quietly cursing them in the depths of your warm bed," Jim said, and nudged Bones.  "Some uncle you are."

 

"Like you're a shining example of avuncular anything," Bones said.

 

"I'll have you know that Peter's given me a card that says I'm the galaxy's best uncle," Jim said.  "It's framed on the wall of my quarters."

 

"Isn't he three?"

 

"And already so smart."  Jim pulled Bones closer, and he wasn't surprised to feel that Bones was hard.  He stroked him gently.  "You know, I bet we've got a good ten minutes before breakfast is served."

 

"More like twenty," Bones said, voice roughening and his hips beginning to shift.  "Georgia's my kind of kid.  Always takes her a lot longer to get to the table."

 

"I could be done with you in ten," Jim said.

 

"You think that, do you?" But from the way Bones was moving, he was looking forward to the challenge.

 

They shifted, with Jim sitting and Bones settling into his lap.  He was still slick from the night before, and he sank right down with just a little more lube added to smooth things out.  Jim forced himself to hold still, and bit down on Bones' shoulder to prevent himself from moving further.

 

"You know," Bones said, voice heavy, "they could open the door and come barrelling down here at any second."

 

Jim bit down that much harder, and felt Bones squirm.  It felt amazing, and Jim wrapped an arm around his middle to keep Bones in place.  "They'd knock, right?"

 

"Probably," Bones said.

 

"Then let's not take any chances?"  It wasn't meant to come out as a question, but Jim wasn't ready to start thinking heavy thoughts in the morning.  He rocked his hips, and felt Bones move a moment later.

 

For a morning quickie, it was pretty damn good. Jim reached around to grasp Bones' cock, and stroking as close to the rhythm of his hips as he could. He could be forgiven if his timing wasn't perfect, especially as Bones brought a hand up to Jim's jaw and angled their faces together, and from the distracted way Bones was kissing, he wasn't functioning any better.

 

Bones shifted his legs a little wider, sinking a little lower, and then Jim was coming and stroking Bones as best he could.  He felt Bones arch his back against him, and then he was like a marionette with his strings cut, leaning against Jim with his chest heaving.

 

"Shower?" Jim murmured to him.

 

The door opened from upstairs again.  "Uncle Len, Mr. Jim, breakfast is ready."

 

"Thanks, pumpkin," Bones called up, and then leaned a bit more against Jim.  "I guess it's a good idea, though it's not really a place for two."

 

"That's too bad," Jim said, but he tapped Bones' ass and felt him stand up with a faint wince.  "Your butt okay?"

 

Bones shrugged, a crooked smile turned up one side of his mouth.  "You've done worse to it."

 

"That so?"  Jim grinned.  "I guess I have."

 

"Down boy," Bones said, rolling his eyes, but the fond smile was still in place.  "Look, you don't have a change of clothes.  Grab something from my dresser, everything should be clean in there.  That way you won't have to wear yesterday's clothes."

 

"Thanks," Jim said, and he meant it.  He heard Bones disappear back into the bathroom, and so he went to raid the dresser.  An almost haphazard collection of shirts greeted him, many of them apparently used and not chosen for their style.  Jim frowned as he sorted through the drawer, and finally settled on one that seemed mostly decent.  It wouldn't quite fit, but that didn't matter.

 

Bones was back by the time Jim had made his selection, and Jim quickly went past him for the shower.  After nearly a year in space, the feeling of hot water cascading down his shoulders and back was almost hypnotic, and he sighed regretfully into the steam at having to hurry.

 

"I was about to check if you'd drowned," Bones said, sitting on the edge of the somewhat-tidied bed, as Jim came back in.

 

"Hot water," Jim said simply.

 

"Yeah, I remember the sonics they had on my one training cruise," Bones said.

 

"What time is it anyway?" Jim asked as he hurried into his clothes.

 

"It's going on eight," Bones said, getting up and stretching again.  "And if we're lucky, there's still some food left."

 

Bones went upstairs first, and found the rest of the family finishing their breakfast.  The girls waved hello, but Jim didn't miss the way Donna's gaze zeroed in on Bones' changed appearance, and then she was looking straight at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

Jim just smiled, and went to the counter while Bones placed a morning kiss to each girls' cheek.  Emma smiled up at him while Georgia stared openly.

 

"You aren't scruffy," she said, her tone somewhere between curiosity and disappointment that her uncle looked different.

 

Bones ran a hand down his cheek and shrugged.  "Felt like making a change."

 

"I like it," Emma said.  "You don't look like a bear."

 

"A bear?" Bones scoffed as he got his breakfast.

 

"Big and furry," she clarified.

 

"I didn't think they had bears on Centaurus," Jim said as he sat across from Donna on the chair that was very clearly an extra addition.

 

"There are other large predators," Fred said, and it seemed like meaning of the conversation had gone over his head.  He drank his coffee.  "Sadly, not furry."

 

"I saw one the last time we were on Earth," Emma said.  "Gramma took me and Joanna to the zoo.  Georgia was too little, though.  She doesn't remember it."

 

Donna shot a look toward her brother, and she seemed as surprised as Jim when Bones smiled.  "I remember that.  I came along, too, remember?"

 

"I know," Emma said, grinning at him.  There was a smear of egg on her upper lip, and her mother leaned across to wipe it off.

 

"So how long did you say you had shore leave?" Fred asked as he finished his breakfast.

 

"Three days," Jim said, "but since I'm the first officer, I probably should head up to the ship early to make sure everything keeps running smoothly."

 

"Fair enough."  Fred made a thoughtful noise.  "There's a few more things you can check out that are outside the city.  They've made a few nature reserves that are exempt from development.  That's something new that's happened within the last few months.  There's a great place to go for a hike, if you're into that."

 

"What about mountain climbing?" Jim asked, suddenly interested.

 

"Down on the southern continent," Donna said.  "You can take a shuttle there.  We've never been, but I've got a colleague who tries to go out there a few times a year."

 

"Maybe we'll go," Jim said, looking at Bones.

 

"I'd rather have my teeth pulled without anaesthetic," Bones muttered.

 

Emma scoffed.  "Go mountain climbing, Uncle Len.  That sounds like a lot more fun."

 

*

 

The Memorial was located just a block from the proposed site for the Federation Council chamber, or what was currently a large quarry filled with water.  Admittedly, Jim didn't find it very inspiring compared to the building that used to stand in Paris, France, although he'd only seen pictures.

 

"I think they're going to start construction in the next month," Bones was saying as they walked by.  "But as you can guess, it's more important to have housing than monumental architecture right now."

 

"So the high school gymnasium will be a popular place in the next few months," Jim said.  "There's something just so wholesome about that idea."

 

Bones snorted, and then steered Jim toward a small coffee shop that they'd decided would be the meeting place for the crew.  The morning was warm, the sunlight just perfect for sitting outdoors despite the orange tint to it.  Jim wasn't surprised to see Pavel, Hikaru, and Nyota already there, sipping coffees on the patio and watching the morning activity.

 

"Morning!" Jim called.

 

There was an answering chorus as two extra chairs were pulled over.  Jim noticed Bones hanging back, his earlier cheer dissipating for the moment.  Before he could intervene, Nyota got up and gave Bones a hug.

 

"It's good to see you, Leonard," she said as she pulled away.  "We've been worried."

 

Bones looked mildly embarrassed at the attention.   "I'm doing fine."

 

She motioned for him to sit down next to her, and Jim mouthed a "thank you" from where Bones couldn't see it.  He sat down besides Bones, and flagged down a waiter to place an order for two more coffees.

 

"You are looking well today, Doctor," Pavel said, waving to his own face in a general way to refer to Bones' lack of facial hair.  "More regulation."

 

"Thanks?" Bones said, and shot Jim an ironic smile.  The crew could think what they want; Jim was just glad that he didn't have whisker burn on his own face.  "So do you guys hang out all the time?  I'd think being stuck together on the same time can for months would mean you'd like a change of scene."

 

They glanced at each other.  "Sometimes," Nyota said.

 

"But this is something we want to do together," Hikaru added.

 

"You're all coming with us to the Memorial?" Bones asked.  "I thought it was just Pavel going."

 

"We've all lost someone, Leonard," Nyota said, a gentle tone that nonetheless made colour bloom on his cheeks and he dropped his gaze.  "Even if we didn't, we'd want to support each other."

 

An uncomfortable pause hovered over the table, broken finally by the waiter bring more coffee.  Jim slipped over a few credits, and tried to hide a yawn that seemed to come from nowhere.

 

Hikaru noticed anyway, and he grinned.  "Late night?"

 

"None of your business," Jim shot back, which only confirmed it to his friend.  The truth was, he wasn't really sure what time they'd fallen asleep, or when they'd had their conversation in the middle of the time.  He pressed his thigh against Bones, enjoying the physical proximity, and took a sip of his drink.  The coffee tasted pretty standard, and he didn't need to doctor it.  "So are we expecting anyone else?"

 

"Just Spock," Nyota said.  "He said he'd join us once he finished his meeting with resource management."

 

At the mention of the captain's name, Bones glanced up from his coffee at Jim.  The set of his mouth betrayed a slight tension, but he seemed more curious than worried about who was going to join their party.  "If you don't mind my asking, who are you going to remember?"

 

There might've been a time when asking that question would've been offensive, but those days were gone.  It was still a very personal question, but reminiscing about the past and about friends and loved for ones now gone was a way of bringing people together.  He wasn't sure if it was meant to help with the healing process, or to subvert it somehow, but Jim could also say that after a year spent with these people, he knew more about them by who they mourned than anything else.

 

Nyota favoured him with a bittersweet smile, and removed some pictures that she'd printed out.  She slid them over to Bones as she spoke, a way of showing she didn't hold his previous oversight against him.  "I'll be there for a while. I want to primarily remember my father, but there's also my extended family.  We were close."  She named out cousins, aunts and uncles, all of which Bones took in with a slow nod.  "After graduation, I was planning to go home for a visit before shipping out."

 

"That was my plan, too," Bones said, softly.

 

Hikaru was eyeing him with a sympathetic smile.  They were all experts now on pulling each other from morose thoughts, and he'd a particular insight into Bones.  "So tell us what you've been up to, Len."

 

"What have I been up to?" Bones repeated, with a wry twist to his mouth.  "Mostly, just staying out of trouble and under the radar."

 

"That would be the definition of being AWOL," Jim said.

 

Bones glared, but Pavel chuckled.  "Do not worry, Doctor.  We have not seen you."

 

"Seen whom?" Spock asked from beside them.

 

Despite being off-duty, Jim, Hikaru and Pavel hurriedly rose to stand at attention, before arranging the chairs to add another seat to their now-overflowing table.  As Nyota leaned in to touch his hand in greeting, while Bones watched with a carefully neutral expression.  He wasn't quite facing Spock, Jim notice, but they could easily make eye contact.  Spock made a point of avoiding him as the waiter reappeared to take his tea order.

 

"Doctor," Spock finally said.

 

"Commander," Bones said, glancing at him.  "Oh, wait.  Sorry, it's Captain.  You'll have to excuse me if I don't salute."

 

Spock raised an eyebrow at his comment.  "As I am off duty, I am disinclined to accept one.  You seem well."

 

"Yeah," Bones replied, and looked pointedly at Jim, asking for a rescue.

 

"I think," Jim began, drawing their attention, "I can speak for everyone here, and carrying on with our previous conversation, that we're _all_ off duty, Bones, and we're just visiting with a friend.  We're all here for a common purpose."

 

"What, to bring me back into the flock?" Bones demanded.  "Technically, what you're doing could be seen as abetting."

 

"Only if we report it," Jim told him.  "Starfleet's got better things to do right now."

 

"And again," Pavel added, "we have seen no one."

 

He looked to Spock for confirmation, wanting the final word to come from an official source.  Spock seemed amused, or maybe it was just because Jim knew the captain well enough by now.  "Clearly, but I do wish to make an alternate suggestion, Doctor.  We need not be abetting anyone if you were simply on an extended bereavement leave."

 

"That would imply I'm still in Starfleet," Bones said.

 

Spock's tea arrived, and he occupied himself with making sure it was steeped to his satisfaction.  "That is correct.  I wish you to consider the possibility, at the very least.  The sickbay staff is not at its full complement, and to regain your considerable talents would be quite desirable."

 

The words seemed to make Bones pause.  "Is that so?"

 

"I would welcome your return," Spock said, meeting his gaze evenly.  It felt a little like a stand-off to Jim, and he felt himself getting uncomfortable as the silence stretched out.  He knew both of them well enough to know that neither one wanted to look away first, and Spock seemed to understand it as well.  "Additionally, I have come to provide my support to you and our friends in this moment, as well as to participate in my own remembrance.  I also should have expressed this before.  I grieve with thee."

 

That clearly threw Bones for a loop.  He swallowed hard, and broke the gaze as he ran a hand through his hair.  When he looked at Jim, his eyes were pained.  "Thank you.  I'll consider your offer, Spock, and that's all I can say.  I'm not ready to make a decision right now."

 

"Understandable."  Spock seemed pleased by the answer, even if it wasn't really one, and went back to his tea.

 

And under the table, Jim felt Bones grasp at his hand, and squeezed.

 

That was something, right?

 

*

 

Growing up in the shadow of the Kelvin disaster, Jim wasn't a stranger to memorials.  He'd been dragged to the official monuments in San Francisco and Riverside more times than he'd care to count, and his mom had her own little shrine in the corner of the living room.  He resented the ceremony that the more formal sites required, and as far as he was concerned, the best memorials were the spontaneous ones.

 

That’s what the Earth Memorial really was.  Over their coffees, Bones explained how it began as an empty building, or part of one, that people had co-opted as a place to recall a vanished world.  The memorial on the Enterprise was something similar, in an underused part of the ship that Spock had allotted for use after consulting with the ship’s psychiatric staff.  But with only seven hundred crewmembers, not all of them Terran, it was a much smaller affair.

 

Very much smaller.

 

Despite having an idea of what to expect, Jim still felt speechless as he passed through the main doors.  The building had probably been intended as a government facility in the lazy pre-capital days, but the official exterior didn’t hint at the outpouring of grief inside.

 

Tragedies were always expressed in numbers, but billions was an incalculable number.  Jim had existed for a year with the memory of his own personal dead; compounded by every single person living on Centaurus, there were probably literally millions of pictures lining the walls.  Everywhere Jim looked there were faces that had been lost in a heartbeat almost a year ago:  young and old, male and female, and all shades of the human spectrum.

 

“Oh, wow,” Jim breathed.

 

Bones was watching him, a quiet expression on his face.  As the other members of the crew took their own pictures out to add to the massive collage, he caught Jim’s hand and tugged him over to one side of the room.

 

“She’s over here,” he whispered, like he was afraid of his voice carrying in the space.

 

As he allowed himself to be led, Jim tried to spot Joanna amid the thousands of pictures lining the walls, but found that he was counting faces instead.  He forced himself to stop after he reached one hundred, and that was just after half-a-dozen steps.  Each picture told a story of people lost forever, and some of them were set in locations on Earth that Jim vaguely recognized from holovids and books:  Paris, London, New York City, Tokyo.  That might’ve been what struck Jim more, and what made the familiar knot in his chest twist in painful sympathy, was that this wasn’t just about the people who’d been lost, but about the entire planet.

 

This was for everyone.

 

Blinking the tears from his eyes, Jim realized that Bones had stopped to point to a spot over their heads.  He looked up, searching for the familiar heart-shaped face and the piercing green eyes.  When he located her, finally, he had to smile.  It was a picture he remember from their dorm room, with Joanna sprawled over her father’s back, peering over his shoulder as the two of them grinned for the camera.  Two peas in a pod, he remembered thinking, and he leaned against Bones.

 

“I always loved that picture,” Jim told him.

 

“Me, too,” Bones said.  He had his arms folded tightly to his chest, head tilted up to watch, but after a few moments, he slid an arm around Jim.  “That was the only place I could put it at the time.  I had to get up on my tiptoes to reach.  I suppose they brought in ladders later on, but I didn’t mind.”

 

A second later, Jim realized there was another familiar face right next to Joanna’s picture, and he felt surprised.  “You also added a picture of Jocelyn?”

 

“I did,” Bones said, shrugging.  “She’s the mother of my child, and she didn’t deserve what happened any more than the rest of these people.”

 

“That’s nice of you,” Jim said.

 

“No, it’s not,” he said.  “It was the right thing to do, too.  I mean, our marriage ended badly, but I think we were almost friends again toward the end.  Maybe in another one of those alternate realities you guys were debating about, we were still married when this happened.”

 

“And maybe,” Jim said, although it hurt to consider it, “there are even more realities where this didn’t happen at all.”

 

When Bones looked at him, his eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.  “I know.  That’s all I could think about when Spock walked in.  How if he’d just done what you goddamn suggested, maybe things would’ve been different.  You were the first officer.  It’s his job as captain to listen to the advice of his first officer.”

 

"You know he regrets what happened," Jim said, and hoping that their voices wouldn’t carry over to wherever Spock and Nyota were located.

 

“I know,” Bones repeated.  “I remember the letter where you wrote that.  I understand that, but it’s just... goddamn it.  I’ve never believed in happenstance, and yet everything right now is pointing me directly back toward the Enterprise.”

 

Jim had to fight to prevent himself from smiling.  Instead, he pulled Bones into a hug.  “I’d call that synchronicity.”

 

“You and your big words,” Bones sighed, leaning into the embrace for several moments.  “I have to make a decision, don’t I?”

 

It wasn’t really a question.  Jim waited for a moment, and asked what he thought was the most important point.  “What do you want, Bones?”

 

This time, there was a snort.  “Hell if I know right now.”

 

“You know I won’t push you,” Jim said.

 

Bones pushed away from the hug, wiping at his face, and tried to smile at Jim.  “Don’t lie in front of the dead.”

 

“I’m not,” he said.  “I can nudge, hint, and make a few pointed suggestions.  Other than that, it’s up to you, man.  I can be completely honest with you.  I want you in my life, and if I had my way, I’d be grabbing a hypo, knocking you out, and dragging your ass back to the ship.”

 

“I’m a doctor, not a damsel in distress,” Bones retorted.

 

“I know.”  Jim glanced up again at the faces staring back at them, especially that of a younger, happier Bones, his smile frozen in time.  “Look, I’ll give you a bit of time to yourself, okay?  I think I need to go outside.  This is a little... well, overwhelming.”

 

Bones caught his hand, holding him in place.  “You okay?”

 

“I just...”  He found it was hard to voice his thoughts, to say precisely the right thing at the moment, and he wondered if he’d already said everything that needed to be said.  Instead, he glanced up at the pictures again with a sigh.  “It’s just the could-have-beens, you know?  The should-have-beens.  I think about them a lot, but here, I think I can see them here and it hurts.”

 

He felt Bones' lips, dry and soft, against his cheek.  "I really do."

 

Glancing up at Joanna’s picture and imagining a little girl’s whine about how gross it was for two adults to kiss, Jim allowed himself to smile.  There were things he could say, about how he desperately didn’t want Bones to be one of those should-have-beens, but he wasn’t ready to voice it yet.  “I’m just going to go outside, okay?  I’ll leave you two alone.”

 

Bones may have smiled, but it didn’t reach past the emotions showing in his eyes.  “Sure.”

 

*

 

Outside on the streets of the sun-drenched capital, people were going about their routines and barely glancing at the lone man standing by the threshold to the Memorial.

 

Jim watched them go, envying them briefly for their preoccupation in their daily tasks, and then wondered at who they might be.  How many of them had placed pictures inside, and was that act enough to separate them from the emotions enshrined within?

 

It didn’t matter that much, he decided, and descended the stairs to look around.  He noticed a small courtyard to the side of the building, featuring a garden and stone benches placed for pure civic function rather than anything related to the Memorial.  He walked over, intending to stretch out in the sunshine and wait for Bones and the rest of the crew to emerge.

 

He took the first bench that gave him the best view of the entrance, and took a deep breath.  The air carried a faint perfume from the native plants growing around him, mostly coming from the few local flowers that were compatible with the terraforming that had happened over a generation before.  The scent wasn’t enough to set off his allergies, though his nose felt faintly itchy.

 

Wrinkling his nose, he gave it a quick scratch, and then found himself touching the spot where Bones had kissed him.  If it made him look like a lovesick teenager, he didn’t really care.  He was still touched by the somewhat mixed messages he was getting from Bones, and while he knew that he needed more time to consider his options, Jim knew that it was going to be a new kind of hurt if Bones didn’t come with them.

 

He also wasn’t sure if he could accept that.

 

There would always be options, he tried to tell himself.  Anything that meant he wasn’t losing Bones all over again, and he prepared to list them in his mind so he could pull them out if the conversation called for it later on.  They could keep talking long-distance if necessary, or wait for Jim’s required five years were up before deciding on their next step.  Jim was a little shocked that his brain was going there already, but he wanted to think of every possibility that would mean Bones wouldn’t run away again.

 

A shadow fell over him, blocking the light and interrupting his thoughts.  Expecting someone from the crew to be joining him, Jim slowly opened his eyes, and what he saw surprised him.

 

There was a Vulcan sitting beside him, and it wasn’t Spock.

 

Why did it have to be his bench?  There were half a dozen more scattered around them, but then he found himself staring because this was the oldest Vulcan he’d ever seen.  He was easily older than the elders the Enterprise had rescued almost a year ago.  The man’s hair was iron grey, and there were deep lines bracketing his mouth.  Normally he wouldn’t have called them laugh lines – what did Vulcans call them, anyway? – but there was something about the man’s slightly clouded brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with quiet good humour.

 

Very un-Vulcan, and that bothered Jim.

 

“Can I help you?” he asked.

 

"My apologies for having disturbed you," the Vulcan said.  “A beautiful day, is it not?”

 

“It is,” Jim said, and it was.  “It’s nice to see sunshine again, even if it’s a little orange.”

 

The Vulcan nodded slowly.  “I find that any sun that warms my bones is welcome these days.  I must also say that I am relieved to have found you.”

 

Jim felt his eyebrows going up.  “I don’t think we’ve met before?”  He left it as a question, just in case there was the chance the man had been on the Enterprise before.

 

“Not precisely,” he said.  “However, I am reasonably certain that you are James Kirk.”

 

A chill ran down his spine despite the sunshine.  “I prefer Jim.  I’d offer to shake your hand, but I don’t want to see rude.”

 

“Of course.”  A faint smile touched the Vulcan’s lips.  “You may call me Selek.”

 

"Pleased to meet you," Jim said.  The name twigged something in his memory, and he quickly ran through the bits of Vulcan that he’d picked up since joining the Academy.  “Doesn’t your name have the same root as remembrance, or something similar?”

 

“It does,” Selek said, with a nod.  “I was not aware that you knew Vulcan.”

 

“I’ve picked up a few phrases here and there,” Jim said, and eyed the man again.  “We didn’t meet last year, did we?  I have a good memory for faces, but I’m pretty sure you weren’t on the Enterprise when we were picking up survivors.”

 

"No, I was elsewhere when my world vanished into the black hole," he said.  "I was, however, aware of it on many levels at the time.”

 

"I grieve with thee," Jim said, deliberately echoing Spock's words from earlier.

 

"I thank you," he said, sounding formal and tired.

 

The question of how Selek knew Jim still hadn’t been answered, but for the moment, Jim was willing to set it aside.  “You know, I thought almost every Vulcan would be heading to their new colony.  I’m surprised to see you here.”

 

"I only recently arrived on Centaurus," Selek said, "and have been unable to join my fellow Vulcans."

 

There was something he wasn’t saying, but Jim wasn’t about to pry.  “Well, my ship stopped by a few months ago.  It’s not quite like Vulcan, they were saying, but it’s pretty close.  A bit like this place, I guess you could say.  I’m pretty amazed at the Vulcans’ lack of nostalgia, though.  They’ve started building cities that are pretty much like nothing that existed before.”

 

“I assure you that we are not immune,” Selek said, looking at Jim like he was searching for a sign of recognition.  “Most see the logical of moving beyond it.”

 

“And the others?” Jim asked.

 

"We understand the draw," Selek said simply.

 

That made sense, and just furthered what Jim already suspected about the Vulcan character.  He leaned back, hunching his shoulders forward without the back support, and put his elbows on his knees.

 

“You still haven’t said how you know me,” Jim said.  “I have the feeling you sought me out deliberately.”

 

Selek remained sitting, spine straight, but his expression didn’t change.  “You remain perceptive as ever.”

 

A strange feeling crawled over Jim’s skin, and he considered the Vulcan again for a long moment.  “And there’s something you’re not telling me.”

 

Selek met his gaze evenly.  "There are things I cannot share with you."

 

"Why not?"

 

"There could be repercussions of cosmic significance," Selek said.  "The nature of which, of course, I cannot elaborate."

 

That wasn’t helpful, and Jim shook his head.  “Look, man, this is really creeping me out.”

 

“On the planet where I came from,” Selek said, ignoring the comment, “there was a Starfleet officer.  His name is Montgomery Scott, an engineer.  He is currently seeking assignment, and I understand you are currently the first officer aboard the Enterprise.”

 

Jim blinked.  "This is a job reference?"

 

"Of sorts," Spock said.

 

"Montgomery Scott?"  Jim frowned.  "That's it?  You sought me out just to recommend to my captain that we take this Scott guy aboard?”

 

"He will be worth your effort," Selek said.  "In fact, he is worth his weight in miracles."

 

Jim snorted.  "I didn't think Vulcans believed in miracles."

 

"Albert Einstein once stated that anything that cannot be explained by science may be considered magic," Selek said.  "That is, of course, a paraphrase, and I would argue that this man's abilities are comparable to that."

 

"Well, if you’re quoting Einstein when it comes to this guy?  That says something,” Jim said, though he wasn’t sure where to fit this man into the hierarchy just yet.  "Look, I can't promise anything, but I'll have a look at his record."

 

“That is sufficient,” Selek agreed, and as he arranged his jacket against the faint breeze that was stirring up, he glanced back to the Memorial.  “I assume as well that you have located Leonard McCoy?”

 

This time, Jim felt like his skin was crawling.  “I think you already know the answer to that if you know about him.”

 

“Not as such, but I had hoped you would locate him,” Selek said, and rose to his feet with a grace that belied his age.  He blocked the sun, casting Jim in shadow, and it gave his next words extra weight.  “You must convince him to return to Starfleet.”

 

“Hold on a second!”  Jim started to get up, but the motion stopped when Selek placed a firm hand on his shoulder.  Instead, Jim looked up and tried to understand more about this Vulcan.  “How do you know about Bones?  Why do you care about him?”

 

“I cannot tell you, except to say this is the desire of an old man who wishes to reverse a wrong,” Selek said, and then the hand on his shoulder moved to brush his face.  It took a long moment for Jim to realize they were touching meld points, but he was too slow in beginning to rear back.  “Please, remain still.  I will not force a meld, but I wish to share a vision with you.  Perhaps you will understand.  May I show you?”

 

Jim’s common sense said no, but his intuition drowned it out.

 

"Okay."

 

He could feel Selek leaning close.  There were words being murmured, and then Jim suddenly wasn’t in the sun-drenched courtyard.  He found himself aboard the Enterprise, but the familiarity felt wrong.  The details he could see didn’t belong to his ship, and yet they were _right_ in a certainty that he realized wasn’t coming from him.

 

This was the briefing room, he realized with the same sense of disconnection, and he looked across the table to see himself.  But it wasn’t the face he saw in the mirror.  He was reminded of Sam, if his brother had ever joined Starfleet.  He could see captain’s stripes on his sleeves, and he could see familiar faces around the table that weren’t quite right.  Pavel, Hikaru, Nyota , and Bones – wearing the blue tunic again but not the right shade – all discussing the situation at hand.  There were other faces he’d never met, but he still had names for them:  Rand, Reilly, and Scott.

 

_What is this?_ he asked.

 

He caught the reflection of his perspective, and saw a Vulcan face looking back at him.

 

_This is how it was meant to be, one day.  Captain James Kirk, and the crew of the Enterprise.  You must make it come to pass again._

 

The image began to fade, but Jim wasn’t ready.  He tried to cling to the connection – _wait, wait, wait!_ – but it was like sand falling from his fingers.  He came to himself, opening eyes he hadn’t realized were shut, and found himself lying on the bench.  His head hurt, and the sunlight was too much for him now.  As he raised a hand to his brow to peer around him, he felt his breath catch in his chest.

 

Selek was nowhere to be seen, and if it weren’t the headache, he’d be tempted to think it was just a dream.

 

*

 

The crew were waiting when Jim walked through the front doors, still a little shaken and perplexed by his encounter with Selek.  At a glance, he could see that his shipmates seemed to have had a positive experience, and that helped settle his nerves.  Pavel’s eyes were bright, but his shoulders were relaxed for the first time in months.  Nyota seemed lighter, but from the way she had her arm around Spock’s waist, she clearly needed his physical proximity for support.  It was hard to read Spock in moments like these, and although Hikaru’s entire family had survived, he seemed quieter than usual.

 

The place had that kind of effect.

 

“Where’s McCoy?” Jim asked when he realized that Bones wasn’t joining them.

 

“He left about ten minutes ago,” Hikaru said.

 

Jim stiffened.  “What?  Where did he go?  I didn’t see him come out.”  That wasn’t saying much, since it might’ve happened during the meld, but he’d like to think Bones would intervene if he’d noticed.  “There’s a side door?”

 

Pointing vaguely at the other side of the building, Hikaru nodded.  “He said he’d be in touch though.”

 

“He did?”  Jim forced himself to take a deep breath, and tried to ignore the panic button inside his chest.  “Did he say what he was doing?”

 

Nyota reached out to grasp his hand.  “Jim, I think right now you’re going to have to trust him.”

 

“Now that you’ve seen Len,” Hikaru began, and then quickly amended himself.  “Now that we’ve all seen Len, I’m sure he’s not about to go back into hiding again.”

 

“I hope so,” Jim murmured.

 

It was hard to avoid the temptation to run after him, and as they left, Jim pulled Spock aside.  “Listen, I think I’m going to head back to the ship.  I need to get back to work.”

 

“Very well,” Spock said.  “There is one task I would appreciate that you take on.  Chief Schwartzer has issued a request for more personnel, but until now, I haven’t time to entertain the possibility of bringing on more crew.”

 

“Really?”  Jim couldn’t help the frown, and found himself dwelling over Selek all over again.  “That’s funny.  I had a recommendation for an engineer.  Word of mouth recommendation, mind you, but the guy came very highly recommended.”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow, and handed over the padd he always took with him.  "I would listen.  What are his details?"

 

“Hold on.”  Jim thumbed through the personnel roster, and while he was half expecting to come up empty-handed, he found the name he was looking for.  He got a glimpse at the regulation photograph – the right face, but different details from the meld – before handing it back to Spock.  “That’s him.”

 

“Interesting,” Spock said a few moments later.  He seemed interested, judging by the uptilt of his eyebrow.  “While his record suggests extraordinary talent, Lt. Commander Scott was assigned to Delta Vega two years ago.”  He looked up.  “As punishment.”

 

Naturally, Selek had left that detail out.  Jim peered over Spock’s shoulder, careful not to touch as he read the details.  “By order of Admiral Archer.  Well, the old man’s dead, Delta Vega’s been evacuated, and from what I heard, Scott’s now on Centaurus and waiting for an assignment.”

 

"His credentials are otherwise astounding," Spock admitted.

 

"I think he’d be a great addition to our crew,” Jim said.

 

“I admit to being uneasy about the nature of his punishment,” Spock said, reading a few more lines.  “However, if you are able to locate Mr. Scott before the time we leave tomorrow, you have my permission to offer him a place aboard the Enterprise.  I will defer to your judgement.”

 

That was still a refreshing change from their relationship ten months ago, and Jim allowed himself a bit of a smile.  “I’ll be sure to charm him.”

 

“Please do not,” Spock said, and there was a twinkle in his eye.  “You will be more apt to frighten him than entice him.”

 

There were a dozen things Jim could’ve said by way of rebuttal, but instead, the words froze in his throat as Spock walked away to rejoin Nyota.  It wasn’t that he’d been the butt of Spock’s teasing before, but today, after his encounter with Selek, he began to recognize the source of his unease.

 

Selek couldn’t be Spock, could he?

 

He didn’t know what to make of that.

 

*

 

On the drive back to the base, Jim noticed how the development was encroaching on the airfields and buildings.  There was a safety zone that had to be maintained, but otherwise the houses were going up as close as they could.  The area had a different feel to the other suburban developments Jim had seen earlier, and there was something about this area that reminded Jim of his childhood days near the Riverside fleet yards.  It felt familiar, in a way, and he decided he didn’t really want to think about that.

 

After asking around, he found himself directed toward the engineering wing by an ensign.  The room number was a lounge, where men and women – some in regular uniform, others in fleet-standard coveralls – were drinking coffee and shooting the shit.

 

Jim knocked on the door.  “Hey, is there a Montgomery Scott here?”

 

He was glad he wasn’t wearing his uniform, since it meant no one needed to jump up and salute him.  Instead, it was a casual atmosphere as he was studied for a moment, and then the faces turned toward a man sitting at the table closest to the door.  Jim recognized the confident smile and the thinning hair immediately, and found Scott’s sharp grey eyes examining him curiously.

 

“Aye, that’s me,” Scott said, a Scottish accent flavouring his words.  “Who wants to know.”

 

"The name's Jim Kirk," he said.  "I'm the first officer aboard the Enterprise.  I was hoping to get an opportunity to talk to you for a few minutes."

 

There was a slightly dreamy look to Scott's eyes.  "The Enterprise, hmm?  Beautiful lass."

 

"That's for sure," Jim agreed.

 

Scott finished his coffee and set the mug heavily on the table.  "All right, let's go for a stroll.  Lads, lasses, don't wait up for me."

 

There was laughter as he left, and then they were heading down the hall toward a small courtyard.  Jim eyed him as they walked, and although he knew from the meld what Scott would look like in his regulation red uniform, he thought the coveralls suited him.

 

“So I hear you haven’t been on Centaurus long,” Jim began.

 

“That’s right,” Scott said, giving a faint grimace.  “I managed to be rescued roughly three months after Vulcan was done in.  I'm just relieved Delta Vega registered on their list as a place needing evacuating."

 

"What were you doing there, anyway?" Jim asked.

 

"Hell if I know," Scott said.  "General maintenance of the shithole of a Starfleet base, I suppose."

 

“Right.”  Jim held the door open, letting Scott go first.  “So tell me, what did you do that made Admiral Archer want to put you there in the first place?”

 

Scott coughed.  "Ah, you heard about that.  Well, that's the thing.  Theoretically it should have worked, but... see, I was working on a post-grad project about transwarp physics."

 

"And?"  Jim waited for the man to continue.

 

“And,” he said, oddly flustered, "I figured the best way to prove it was to use a real subject."

 

"Not a real person?" Jim asked quickly, wondering about the other man for a moment.

 

"Och, no."  Scott shook his head quickly.  "That would be cruel.  No, I tested it on Admiral Archer's prized beagle."

 

Jim stared.  "That was you?"

 

"Ah, aye."  Scott looked flustered, eyeing the grass.  "You've heard of it, then?"

 

"Just that the dog went missing, and..."  Jim paused.  "What happened?"

 

"As far as I know, the wee beastie's doing fine on another planet," Scott said.  "I just don't happen to know where that is.  The admiral was a tad sore on the topic, as you might imagine."

 

"Well, yeah."  Jim shook his head, and wondered again at Selek's insistence at inviting Scott onto the ship.  "That's, um... unfortunate."

 

"Aye."  Scott looked at him with a look.  "Why are you here, Kirk?  Commander Kirk, am I right?”

 

"Call me Jim."  Jim eyed him for a long moment.  "Do you happen to know a Vulcan?"

 

Scott blinked.  "A Vulcan?  Yes, now that you mention it.  Not well.  There was an old fellow living on Delta Vega, like a kind of hermit.  Strange climate for a Vulcan, but I’m not one to judge.  He's the one who came to me and helped me attract Starfleet's attention.  Quiet but friendly, in his own way.  Why?"

 

“He said you were looking for work,” Jim said, “and that you came very highly recommended.  We need another engineer, so here I am.  I assume you haven’t got an assignment yet?”

 

Scott shook his head.  "Not yet, no, though I'm told the next ship needing an engineer might have its dibs on me.  I don't know, there's a lot of folks who still remember what Archer had to say."

 

“If your reputation is as good as it sounds,” Jim said, “that won’t be a problem aboard the Enterprise.”

 

A slow smile touched the other man's lips, even as his eyes sparkled.  "I was hoping you'd say that."

 

"I've talked to the captain, and he's pleased with your record," Jim said.  "So yeah, consider this an offer of employment, if you'd like.  We're shipping out tomorrow, if that's enough time to get your affairs in order?"

 

This time, Scott grinned.  "I keep my bag in my locker, just in case.  I can go with you today."

 

"Sure."  Jim extended his hand, and Scott grasped it in a strong grasp.  "Welcome aboard, Mr. Scott."

 

"Call me Scotty," the other man said.  "This is one lady I'm really looking forward to meeting."

 

That was going to go over well with Schwartzer, who was just as possessive of his ship.  Jim couldn’t help being amused, and they chatted over a few things before Scotty excused himself to get his gear.  Jim smiled to himself, wondering how the two men would get along, and pulled out his comm.  Despite the urge to leave as many messages as possible to locate Bones, he just wanted to check his messages.

 

And there was a message from Bones.

 

He took a deep breath as he let it load, and then because he was feeling childish and superstitious, closed his eyes until he was certain it was on his screen.  Then he looked.

 

_So where do I meet you?_ Bones had written.

 

Of all the possible messages he was expecting, Jim had to admit that he wasn’t too sure whether he’d see those words.  He felt the tension draining from his spine, and he quickly typed in his answer.  _I’m at the base right now.  Where the hell are you?_

 

He had to wait a long moment for an answer.  _By the Starfleet depot._

 

_You’re coming with us?_   He couldn’t type “me” yet.

 

_No, I’m bringing you your lunch,_ came the reply, quickly followed by another message.  _What the hell do you think?_

 

Jim laughed.  _I’ll be right there._

 

He didn’t exactly run to the entrance, but he didn’t doddle on his way there.  He knew that without any Starfleet identification – because, really, what had Bones taken with him when he fled? – the guards weren’t about to let Bones into the secure zone.  The idea that Bones was here, without being dragged here, made Jim feel a little like it was Christmas morning.

 

That feeling was reinforced when he saw Bones leaning with his back against the wall, under the watchful gaze of two redshirts.  There was a bag at his feet, and he turned his head toward Jim, spotting him before Jim could say anything.

 

“Can you let these kids know that I’m not about to sabotage the place?” he called.

 

Jim grinned, and indicated the guards to stand down.  He approached Bones eagerly.  “My lunch, hmm?”

 

“Well,” Bones said, looking fond, “Georgia insisted that I bring a snack.  I figured I could share.”

 

“That sounds great.”  Jim ushered him past the gate, with one hand on the small of Bones’ back to make sure he was going in the right direction.  “You had me worried for a while there.  Are you sure about this?”

 

“No,” Bones said, “but I thought I’d give it a try anyway.”

 

 


	5. Into the Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere inside Leonard McCoy was a Starfleet officer, and it would be really useful for him to show up.

For some reason, Leonard never expected to see Jim Kirk with tears in his eyes.

It was a dumb thought, he recognized that the moment the idea crossed his mind, but if he thought back to the discussions they'd had in their Academy days, Jim was always very even-keeled whenever he talked about his past. Growing up without a father, a mother who frequently left him and Sam in the care of a detested uncle, and losing his way as a young adult – all these stories were told, slowly over the course of three years – with a matter-of-fact detail that said Jim didn't want pity. He'd moved past them, or was trying to.

There was nothing maudlin about him, and yet he'd always listened sympathetically whenever Leonard shared his own stories. Sometimes sober, but most times with a few drinks to loosen his tongue.

Seeing Jim in the Memorial, eyes bright with tears as he looked at the thousands of pictures, made Leonard pause. Maybe he'd put Jim on a pedestal, he thought, and maybe he just wasn't appreciating the many facets to Jim's personality. Had he even thought of that before? More importantly, witnessing how Jim was moved in the face of so much loss – of Leonard's own loss, mirrored a hundred thousand times – stirred something more in his heart.

He was already fond of Jim, thought the universe of him, but as he watched Jim walk out to wait outside, he realized for the first time that he didn't want the Enterprise to leave without him. He didn't want to be without Jim again.

That thought felt like a blow, and he looked up at Joanna's picture. Sometimes he thought he could see new interpretations into her expression, as a way of gauging his own thoughts and fears. But today, he could only see her bright smile, the joy of life she'd had and that he'd used to share – he could see it reflected in the eyes of his younger self.

"I should go, shouldn't I?" he whispered to them. Despite the conversation that he'd had with Jim, this might've been the first real admission he'd allowed himself to admit that it wasn't just fate pushing him back to the Enterprise.

He actually wanted to go there, too, for Jim's sake.

Just... not yet. Because if he knew one thing about himself, it was a propensity for leaving the previous chapters of his lives in shambles. If things had gone differently, maybe he'd have managed to repair the damage that came with fleeing Georgia – although if he really wanted to be honest with himself, he'd been trying to rebuild a friendship with Jocelyn, and his relationship with Donna was much better now they were actually talking.

It was time to grow the fuck up and clean up his mess here before it started, and then fix what was broken from when he ran from Starfleet.

He bid his usual farewell to Joanna, and made his way over to Jim's shipmates. Hikaru noticed his approach, and slipped over to stand by him.

"You okay, Len?" he asked, his voice a murmur.

The concern was touching, and he realized that he'd missed Hikaru, too. There'd been the start of a friendship between them, from the time they'd worked on a class project together at the Academy. Their similar work ethics proved to be particularly simpatico, and Leonard appreciated Hikaru's even-keeled way of approaching a problem. There was also a quality to his personality that reminded him of Jim, they were both direct and physical in their outlook, and maybe that explained the friendship there, too.

"I'll be all right," he said, and it was true. "Listen, I've got a few things to take care of."

Hikaru's dark eyes looked at him intently. "You're leaving?"

"Well..." Leonard paused, realizing there were layers of meaning in the question, and he wasn't sure which ones he should be addressing. "Tell Jim I'll be in touch soon, okay?"

He almost didn't want to wait for a reply, but at Hikaru's somewhat sceptical nod, Leonard took the side entrance. He walked quickly, a knot of tension beginning to form in his gut that he felt determined to ignore. If he was really going to follow through on this plan, he had things to accomplish without the distraction of second-thoughts to deter him.

It was a warm walk to the clinic, and he felt out of breath when he reached the lobby. The receptionist and nurses on staff had double-takes at his lack of beard, but if they sensed the purpose of his change, they weren’t letting on. Dr. Karaman was in his office, and he looked pleasantly surprised by Leonard's suddenly entry.

"Devereaux,” he greeted. “I wasn't expecting to see you today."

Leonard allowed himself an internal wince at the enthusiasm. "I've been thinking about your offer yesterday." After everything that had happened, it felt like a week had passed since the discussion after his shift. "I appreciate that you've thought about me as a successor, and that the staff here want me to take your place."

"You do have the talent and experience to make the best of it," Karaman said carefully, but he looked like he had an idea what Leonard was about to say. "There is, of course, the issue that you'd need to register."

"About that," Leonard began, feeling himself standing a bit straighter. "I think we both know that once I register as myself, it'll set off all sorts of red flags. I've doing some thinking, and I'm going to go back to Starfleet."

Karaman nodded, rising from his desk. "That doesn't surprise me."

"It doesn't?" Leonard felt his eyebrow arching.

"It's the most reasonable option," he said. "You're a good doctor, Devereaux. I appreciated having you here, though I admit I had my doubts in the beginning. You've come a long way, and whoever gets to work with you is going to be damn lucky to get you."

Leonard felt himself blush at the praise. "You put up with a lot as far as I'm concerned."

"You left your issues at the door," Karaman said. "That's more than I can say for myself most days. Listen, if Starfleet doesn't work out for you at the end of your term of service, there'll always be a place here for you."

The words meant a lot, even though Leonard knew he was glossing over a lot of the less than stellar moments from the first months of Leonard's employment. He murmured his thanks, shook Karaman's hand, and then he was back out on the street. In the sunshine, he felt his determination to end this well begin to dissipate like a morning mist, and he felt a surge of uncertainty start to wash over him.

He needed to collect his things, such as they were. He pulled out his comm while he walked to the house, and called up Donna's number. She was still at work, he could tell from the lab coat, and she pushed her safety goggles up to the top of her head.

"Lenny?" she greeted, thinly veiled concern in her voice. "What's going on?"

"I'm going to go back," he said, deciding after a moment that bluntness would be best. "I just handed in my resignation at the clinic, and I'm heading home to pick up my things."

Donna smiled. "What changed your mind?"

It wasn't just one thing, he knew, but Jim's presence was a large part of it. He could see from her teasing smile that she was onto him. "A lot of things."

"Not a handsome Starfleet officer?" she asked.

"Maybe," he hedged. "I just... I think I can do it now."

"You can," she said. "Now when you get your things, check the cooling unit. Georgia was hoping you and Jim would go hiking, but going back into space is good enough. She packed you something for a snack."

That might've been the most difficult part, missing out on his nieces. Leonard allowed himself a small smile. "I'll write her a thank you note. Give both her and Emma a hug for me, okay?"

Donna nodded. "I will, and Lenny? Take care of yourself, and that Jim of yours. I'll see you the next time you're in orbit, all right?"

 

*

The guards were staring at him as he texted Jim, but Leonard wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of complaining. They'd refused him access to the secured zone of the base, and they had every right to do that. It was his own damn fault for having left his Starfleet i.d. on the Enterprise when he'd left, but at the time, he'd never thought he'd need to use it again.

Jim tried to hide his relief at seeing Leonard, relying on casual banter instead, but once they were out of side of the guards and there was a place to cram themselves outside of the prying Starfleet cameras, Jim stole a kiss. His eyes were bright as he studied Leonard's face, and he fingered his bangs teasingly.

"You're not quite regulation yet," he said.

Leonard huffed a breath of air at the offending strands. "We'll deal with it later."

"We will," Jim agreed. "Listen, I'm not quite done. If you don't mind lounging around for a few minutes while I finish up, we'll take the next supply shuttle up to the ship."

There wasn't anything wrong with the idea, but calling it lounging was a big misnomer. Leonard ended up with paperwork, documentation that Spock would need to retroactively change his status to something more tolerable to official eyes. Whatever, it made the time pass, and when he looked up to see Jim standing in front of him, he realized that a good hour had gone by.

"Ready?" Jim asked.

"Ask me again in five minutes," he said, and that was getting to the truth. This was the right thing to do, but he suddenly felt that he had to convince himself all over again.

It was a strange bit of a paralleling, he found, as they walked to the tarmac and boarded the shuttle. If he squinted his eyes a bit, and imagined bruised smudging around the edges of Jim's face and some blood on his collar, it could've been a repeat of the first time they met. His feet felt like they were moving of their own volition as he followed Jim to two of the empty seats, surrounded by other personnel who were sitting there immersed in their thoughts and the contents of their padds.

At least, this time he didn't need to try to lock himself in the head. Despite overcoming his aviaphobia at school, he felt an echo of the nausea running along his nerves, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Gonna throw up on me?" Jim murmured, and now he was grinning. His eyes were the insane blue that meant he was on cloud nine, and it was such a familiar sight Leonard felt his anxiety go down by a few notches in response.

"Should I?" Leonard asked, closing his eyes.

Jim's hand was warm as he placed it on top of Leonard's. "These are my good shoes, so I hope not."

"I'll do my best," Leonard said.

The last few people were filtering onto the shuttle, some of them in civvies but most were in uniform. One of the last arrivals looked like a new transfer, because he had duffle bag with him, which he slung overhead in the cargo hold.

"Commander," the man greeted, with a Scottish accent immediately noticeable in his voice. He looked almost as giddy as Jim, and that was saying a lot. "Everything looks a-okay on my end."

"That's great," Jim said. "By the way, Lt. Commander Scott, this is Dr. McCoy. Bones, this is Scotty."

"Another new recruit, hmm?" Scotty asked with a smile.

"Something like that," Leonard said.

"Medical?" Scotty pressed.

"The best," Jim told him.

The pilot's voice came on, advising them to stow the luggage and to make sure they were buckled in. Leonard checked his belt for the third time, and leaned back into his seat. He'd be okay, he knew it, but he still wanted the distraction of Jim's voice. "So fill me in. Who's the CMO now?"

"Rebecca Walker," Jim said. "She's good, capable, and she's got a pretty decent bedside manner. The crew likes her, and she runs a tight operation. She's part of my evacuation team, too, so that's saying something about her level of tact."

The name was familiar, and it took a moment to realize why. "Boyce mentioned her a few times. She graduated when we were in first year, and got her first choice in assignments. If she's as good as her reputation suggests, then the Enterprise is lucky to have her. Especially if she's the CMO."

Even as he spoke, he realized he hadn't exactly thought what kind of situation he'd be walking into. He'd had a battlefield promotion to Acting Chief, but even at first – before the worst happened – he'd just expected that he'd be relieved once a senior surgeon came on board. He'd never really expected to keep it, not with his inexperience in how a starship medical bay was supposed to be run.

"She works well with Spock," Jim admits, and then he lowered his voice. "Listen, Bones, you know I can't give you the old position back. I wish I could, but Walker outranks you in experience and seniority."

"I wasn't expecting anything," he said, and that was true. "I walked away from it, that's fair enough. I can play well with others, you know."

"I know," Jim said, smiling. "Just making sure."

"I'll live," he said, and that much was true. If there was any luck in the world, he'd fall right back into where he was supposed to be when he left.

*

The Enterprise was just as beautiful as she'd been the last time Leonard had seen her, and while he wasn't too fond of giving gender to inanimate objects – hell, why couldn't the ship be a he, it didn't really matter except for the tradition – he found himself thinking that it was like seeing an old acquaintance again.

By the time they were landed, Jim was already being drawn away by something official. He paused long enough to tell Leonard and Scotty to report to the quartermaster's office, tossed off something about dinner, and then he was gone.

Scotty in the meantime was eyeing the shuttle bay with interested eyes, and he only focused once Leonard nudged him hard in the side. "What, are we off already?"

"Unless you want to stay here gawking until we leave? Be my guest," Leonard said, but they were already heading for the turbolift.

He didn't need to look up the location of the office, relying on his memory from the last time he was aboard. They were greeted by a woman Leonard slightly recognized from before, but she barely gave him a second look as she took their names and serial numbers. She consulted with her computer, and she went to fetch two sets of uniforms before handing over their room assignments.

"Same floor," Scotty said, eyeing Leonard's number with a smile. "We should do drinks."

Mumbling a vague agreement, they headed to the right deck together, but parted when it came time to make themselves home. Leonard keyed in his code, and there it was, his newly assigned quarters. They were small, bare and functional, and a few decks below the room he'd temporarily occupied during his brief tenure as CMO. Once inside, with his bag and uniform discarded on the sofa, he checked to see where he was in relation to Sickbay and to Jim's quarters.

Sickbay: four decks up. Jim's place: two decks up, and in a space twice as big.

He checked to see if the duty roster had been updated with his name, but he saw that it hadn't. He shouldn't have been surprised, since he hadn't even filled in that particular piece of paperwork yet. Instead, he twirled in the chair and looked at his new home.

He found he missed the damned orange sunlight.

There was a knock on the door, and he reluctantly got up to answer. He wondered for a moment why they hadn't rung the chime, but then again, he didn't really care. He smiled as the door opened to reveal Christine Chapel, who looked equally satisfied to see him.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," she said, blue eyes twinkling.

Leonard snorted. "You're a riot, Chapel."

"And you're a sight for sore eyes," she said, and went up on her toes for a hug. Leonard put his arms around her middle, and let her hold him for a long moment. She finished by smacking him soundly on the back of the head, but not too hard. "Don't you ever walk away without saying goodbye again, is that clear?"

"Yes, nurse," he said, but he was still smiling.

"Just so we're clear," she repeated, but then she was inside and making herself comfortable on the couch. "The rumour mill said you were coming back, and I'm glad to see the story's true, for once."

He made a face. "Really, it's public knowledge already?"

"It's a small ship," she said. "News travels fast, especially these days. And don't think of it as something negative, Leonard. We're just happy you're back. I'm sure that I can speak for everybody when I say that we've missed you."

"I'm not sure about everyone, but I did miss you," he said, moving inside. He went to rescue his uniform, glad he didn't have to worry about wrinkled fabric, and then a sudden urge to keep moving had him reaching down to unpack his bag. The pictures came first – Donna and her family, and then a few of Joanna – before he felt ready to face Christine again. "So how are things in the medical bay these days?"

"Much better now that they fixed the damn place," she said with a smile. "I've asked about it, and the engineers were supposed to bring in special reinforcements to make sure that kind of battle damage doesn't happen again. That said, we're not about to come across a future starship again, so I figure we're doing okay."

Leonard winced at the memory of their brand new sickbay being blown apart. "Jim tells me that you've got Walker as your new CMO."

"We do, and now she's yours, too," she said. "I like her. She's good, but I can already tell you're going to butt heads with her over a few things."

He felt his eyebrows go up. "Jim thought we'd get on fine."

"As human beings, you'll get along perfectly," she said. "As doctors, that's a different story. I've worked with you, both here on the Enterprise and back at the Academy. You have your way of doing things, and she has hers. It'll be like two bulls in a pasture."

"I don't go around butting heads all the time," Leonard retorted.

She looked at him. "You keep forgetting that I know you."

"Okay, maybe once in a while," he amended.

"The first step in the process is admitting you have a problem," Christine said.

"I solemnly swear to be perfectly professional," he said, holding up a hand. "I don't intend to go anywhere but here, so I'll behave."

She reached out to take the nearest holoframe, which happened to be a picture of Joanna when she was in kindergarten. "I'll remind you of that if the subject comes up."

"Seriously, Christine, you don't need to worry about me," he said, even though he was very aware how that sounded given his recent history. "And anyway, I don't think I'm as loud as I used to be."

"You say that now," she said, but then the moment faded. Christine was smiling again. "It's just good to have you back."

He felt his face warming at her words. "I just wish I knew when I go back to work."

"Probably tomorrow," she said. "The crew who're on leave will start to come back this evening, that still leaves about half the crew still on the planet surface. I'm anticipating our usual influx of booster shots in the morning, but what you'll need to do is see the captain, get the paperwork done, and then you'll need to meet Dr. Walker."

"Sounds like a plan," he said, and looked around his quarters. "I guess that gives me time to unpack a bit more."

Christine eyed his almost empty bag with a knowing look. "That'll take you about five minutes. When you're settled, you going to come with me to the mess. There's going to be a little welcome back party for you."

This time, he winced. "Chris, come on. That's not necessary."

"Who said it was only for you?" she asked, and reached for another picture – he couldn't quite tell which one yet. "Trust me, Leonard, it's not every day we get a member of her family back. We need to celebrate that."

He found he couldn't argue. Pleased with his silence, Christine got up and placed the picture on his desk. It was the same image he'd put up in the Memorial, and he stared at Joanna's picture for a long moment. He felt Christine place a kiss on his cheek, murmuring something about eighteen hundred hours, and then she was gone.

And even if he'd found his voice, he wasn't going to argue with that.

*

When he put on the uniform, Leonard found it was a strange kind of comfort. He stared at himself in the mirror after each step. The two shirts came first, with the black undershirt and the blue tunic with his rank still in place. The pants followed, and then the boots. He remembered when he last wore these clothes, or the ones similar to this, and tried to think about to what it meant to finally wear a real uniform after almost three years of training.

Because somewhere inside him, there was a Starfleet officer, and it would be really useful for him to show up.

Instead, he felt like he was putting on a costume. He stared at his reflection, and wondered how long it would take to feel like he was supposed to wear these clothes. His hair was too long, he supposed, and that didn't help the situation. His bangs were about to fall into his eyes, and the hair at the back of his head was brushing the collar. Maybe after he returned to duty he'd get the haircut to make himself regulation, but for the moment, the uniform would do.

He still wasn't entirely sure if this was the right thing to do, but if he was having second thoughts, that was a good sign. That was the story he was trying to tell himself, something like a sane man wondering about his own sanity.

The sound of the comm signal going off – that piercing whistle he remembered from last time – had him locating his new computer on the desk. He flipped the switch, hoping to keep it from going to a visual.

"McCoy here," he said.

"Doctor," said a voice he didn't recognize, "you're wanted in the captain's ready room."

That was it, the first official part of being back on duty. Leonard sighed, glancing at his reflection again, and then made his way up to the bridge. He was pleased with himself that he didn't need instructions, and chuckled to himself in the turbolift. The last time he'd come up here was to attempt to plead with Spock to find a different way to confront the Narada, and now he was going to sign his life back over all over again.

There was a skeleton crew on the bridge, with just the essential stations being crewed by fresh-faced personnel probably just back from Centaurus. Jim was in the centre seat, and he'd also taken the time to put on a uniform. It was still odd to see him in the gold, especially since the only time Leonard was conscious of noticing it was their last night together.

At the sound of his footsteps on the deck, Jim swivelled around – damn, he really owned that chair – and grinned as he spotted Leonard. He also gave him a very appreciative once-over that probably wouldn't have happened if the bridge were fully staffed.

"Welcome aboard, Bones," Jim said, even though he'd been on the damn shuttle only a few hours before.

"Does Spock know you look that comfortable in that chair?" Leonard asked, taking the steps down to position himself right next to Jim. He leaned an elbow against the cushion, and took in the sight of the quiet bridge. Every other visit during that first mission had been in chaos. "He might think it's a sign of mutiny to enjoy it that much."

Jim ignored him. "So are you all settled?"

"For now," Leonard admitted. "I feel like I should be getting some deja vu by being up here, but it's just, well, a completely different experience. I keep expecting the explosions to start."

"Not this time," Jim promised, but from the twinkle in his eyes, there was more he wanted to say. Command had its disadvantages, thankfully. "So what do you think of her when all hell isn't breaking loose?"

Knowing that Jim meant the Enterprise, Leonard just shrugged. "Big, shiny, and quieter than my last encounter. I don't get why the lights have to be so intense, but that's just me. Where's the captain, by the way?"

Jim gestured to the closed door off to the right. "The ready room is over there. He's waiting for you, with even more forms desperate for your attention."

"I'm thrilled," Leonard sighed, "and if I had any doubts whatsoever that Starfleet was run by a bureaucracy, this lays them down to rest and puts them six feet under."

He ignored Jim's teasing response, and let the words hit his back as he moved across the bridge to the right door. After pressing the door chime, he didn't have long to wait before the door slid open in response, and then he was inside the captain's private retreat way from the bridge.

The first impression he had was that it was a touch warmer than the rest of the ship. Leonard paused to look around, and found the ready room was sparsely decorated with a few objects that illustrated Spock's Vulcan heritage. There was a curious lack of the human side, but then Leonard noticed a single picture of a rose garden. There as a young human woman smiling for the camera, her dark eyes bright with happiness. From the blue sky, Leonard figured it was somewhere on Earth.

He wondered who the woman was, and where the picture was taken.

"She is my mother, Amanda," Spock said, and the proximity of his voice made Leonard startle. He stepped back, guiltily, but found the captain seemed to be pretty even-tempered about the examination. "The rose garden belonged to my human grandmother, although my mother was also found of roses. I believe this was taken in the early days of my parents' courtship."

Glancing at Spock's face, Leonard thought he could recognize those same brown eyes. "I never gave you my own condolences for your loss." Probably there were several, but this was the one Leonard knew most about. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for, but he felt relieved as Spock inclined his head. "I do not take offence. Those were hectic days, and we were all affected at the time. There are many things I did that I should have done differently."

And there it was, hovering in the air between them. Leonard took a deep breath, and looked at Amanda's picture again. "I remember treating your father in Sickbay. How's he doing?"

"He is well," Spock said. "He is currently assisting in the establishment of the new Vulcan world. As you are aware from your experiences on Centaurus, there is much work to be done."

That was saying something. Humans were more likely to spread across the stars than Vulcans, who'd lost a significant amount of their population. Leonard shook his head, and murmured, "That's for sure."

Spock nodded, and indicated the chair situated in front of his desk. Leonard sank down, grateful to be off his feet if only because he'd feel silly standing at attention like a cadet to be scorned. That description wasn't too far from the truth though, and he found himself relieved when Spock handed over the padd.

"More forms?" Leonard asked.

"This is the description of your assignment," Spock said.

He wasn't expecting that yet, and Leonard focused on the text. His immediate future was written out in terse phrases, listing the position as senior surgeon, and as deputy CMO. That wasn't something he was expecting, and was probably a nod to the battlefield promotion he very temporarily held. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but ignored it in favour of searching for anything excusing his absence – a warning, or something – but he wasn't seeing it.

"Shouldn't there be something to say that I went AWOL for the better part of a year?" he asked.

"Not as such," Spock said.

Leonard frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Your personnel record will indicate that you were granted a retroactive bereavement leave, covering the time you were on Centaurus," Spock told him.

"Which opens up a can of warms if you ask why it's retroactive," Leonard guessed.

"Precisely," Spock said. "You will also note the entry is signed by Captain Decker, and it will also correspond to a flag that has been placed on your file by Starfleet Command, such as what it is right now."

That didn't sound good. "Who's Decker when he's at home?"

"He is the personal assistant to the fleet commander, Commodore Garth," Spock said. "Mr. Decker also has an interest in your file. As I understand it, once your mandatory years of service are complete, the flag will be removed. If you choose to leave Starfleet again before that time, he will know."

"So, what, he gave me a free pass because I came back under my own power?" Leonard asked, knowing his eyebrows were going even higher.

"Captain Decker shared his reasonings with me, and I believe he also shared his concerns with Commander Kirk," Spock said. "He felt your talents as a surgeon were better spent in service of the fleet than in a brig, and under your own volition instead of being forcibly impressed back into Starfleet."

"He talked to Jim?" That made a lot of sense, given their friendship in the Academy, but it also led to more questions. "He didn't say anything about that to me."

"Perhaps the commander felt he could reason with you without needing to draw your attention to the negative alternatives," Spock said.

"Maybe," Leonard admitted, although he was sure they covered some of that the night before. "So my every action's going to be scrutinized now? If I'm late reporting back to the ship, where I go for shore leave, things like that? Just in case I might be running away again?"

"If it will make you feel better," Spock said, "I will happily accept your pledge to remain aboard the Enterprise until your required term of service has elapsed."

"With what, a pinky swear?" Leonard asked.

There was a small twinkle in Spock's eyes. "If that will satisfy you. We need not tell Starfleet the nature of our pact."

"They'd be thrilled," Bones said, "and then we'll start assigning away missions using rock, paper, scissors."

Spock didn't quite respond to the comment, and instead he took the padd back – with Leonard's signature saying that it was complete and he accepted the position – to complete the rest of the paperwork. Leonard felt himself getting antsy, and found himself really aware of how the Enterprise's vibrations, soft and regular, surrounded him. He'd been too busy with Jim and then the entire disaster to really pay attention last time, but now he felt it in everything.

"If you are amenable," Spock interrupted, just as Leonard thought he'd begin to twitch, "I will provide you with a short mission briefing. I am uncertain if you are aware of our current status to date."

"I'm sort of aware," Leonard admitted, uncertain if it was proper to mention all of Jim's messages. He wondered if he'd ever allow himself to show Jim the responses he'd try to write but left half finished on his padd. Most times, he'd start with a reply that was a gut reaction, erase what he'd done, try again, and then lose his momentum. If it was a message where Jim's emotions were screaming through more than usual, he quit after the first step. "I know from my work on Centaurus that there've been evacuations of different colonies. I always figured the Enterprise was used because she has the largest cargo hold, and lots of extra cabin space."

Spock's mouth thinned slightly. "Precisely."

"Not exactly going boldly, though," Leonard added.

"Precisely," Spock admitted. "However, in this present political climate, we are in the process of shoring our defences in anticipation of further hostile actions."

"Especially since we don't know where that goddamn ship went," Leonard said, and that familiar anger, one he'd thought had burned out months ago, arced back into existence.

He thought he saw an answering pain in Spock's eyes. "That is only one reason, but yes."

"Do we know if anyone's taking advantage of our situation?" Leonard wondered.

"Unknown, but there are suspicions." Spock moved away to pace by the window, looking out at the stars. "However, I would surmise the Klingons to be most likely to find the weaknesses in our current defences. Apart from the Narada, the Romulan Empire remains insular, and as the saying goes, I am not keen on poking the hornet's nest."

Leonard allowed himself to smile. "You're talking to the kid who once poked a bee hive with a stick."

"Is that not dangerous?" Spock asked, one eyebrow raised to the fringe of his bangs.

"Awfully dangerous. I was covered in bumps from head to toe." Leonard shrugged. "I'm goddamn lucky I didn't die from anaphylaxis, actually."

The words hadn't passed his lips yet when he remembered he'd never seen another bee. He swallowed hard, hating how those moments still hit him hard. He closed his eyes for a long moment, willing the grief to die down again, especially as he remembered telling Joanna once to leave the bumblebees alone.

Spock had the grace to keep silent, waiting until the lump in Leonard's throat had thinned down to an ache.

"Do you have more questions, Doctor?" he prompted in a gentle voice.

"Yeah," he said a moment later. "So what are we doing next?"

"Upon our departure, we will be rejoining Commodore Garth and the rest of the fleet," Spock said. "Beyond that, I am currently not in possession of the specifics. In view of your recent return, however, I believe Dr. Walker will not object if you were the medical office assigned for away missions."

"Me? Away missions?" Leonard blinked. "I didn't train for those."

"They were a standard part of the Academy's training program," Spock said, the matter-of-fact tone in his voice that brought Leonard right back to Jim's hearing after the Kobayashi Maru. "I know for a certainty that you qualified for these types of assignments."

"Well, yeah, but I didn't actually finish the course. I also learned how to pilot a shuttle, and I'm not exactly raring to do that." He crossed his arms, considering whether he wanted to be obstinate over the issue, but the reality was that he was just settling in. It was too early to rock the boat, and so he sighed. "Okay, fine, I'll go on the goddamned missions." 

Spock blinked, though it was unclear whether his reaction was to the word choice or the turnaround. "Very well."

The chime went off, interrupting the questions Leonard was attempting to formulate. At Spock's command, a woman wearing the blue medical tunic entered with her own handful of padds. She brought them to the desk, and sat them down with a satisfying thunk.

"There," she said. "I've updated the list of supplies we've now got on hand, Captain, especially since we were depleted from evacuating Katimavik, not to mention the last two evacuations we did. I'd also appreciate it if the commodore would so kindly inform us the next time we're doing a so-called humanitarian mission so we can get the supplies we need in advance instead of going short like we did this time."

Spock looked at the first padd. "Thank you, Doctor. You've arrived at an opportune time. I would like to introduce you to the newest addition to your staff."

Walker looked from Spock to Leonard, and narrowed dark eyes at Spock. "I wasn't aware I'd put in a request for a new doctor."

"More like regaining an old one," Leonard said.

This time, her eyes widened in understanding. "Right. Then you must be McCoy."

"Leonard McCoy, ma'am." He stood for this, and realized that while she stood a good six inches shorter, she made up for it in sheer volume of presence.

"I've heard of you," she said, shaking his hand in a firm grip, "and that mostly came from picking up your pieces after you left."

He felt his face flush. "I tried to wrap up the loose ends."

"And you nearly succeeded." Walker eyed him for a moment. "That said, I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your daughter."

"Thank you," he murmured, but the words didn't do much to lessen the sting he felt. "You should know I'm re-committed to the job."

"I'm sure you are," she said, and this time she didn't sound as harsh. She even smiled. "I know your record, and we know plenty of people in common who tell me you're a decent surgeon. I could definitely use those skills on my team."

"Additionally," Spock said, "Dr. McCoy is capable of taking your place on away missions."

This time, she looked satisfied. "Is that a fact? Well, about time, Captain. And that means I'm especially glad you're aboard, McCoy."

"Thank you," he said again.

"Report to my office at oh-nine-hundred," she told him. "You can work the alpha shift tomorrow while I sort out the roster. I'm expecting an updated medical exam for you, too."

He narrowly avoided rolling his eyes at her. "Of course."

"All right." Walker turned back to Spock. "If that's everything, Captain, I'm reporting back down to the surface for dinner. I'll be back tonight, and I'm bringing my comm with me if there's an emergency."

Spock dismissed her, and then set her padds aside before facing Leonard again. "Is there more that you require, Dr. McCoy?"

A stiff drink, he wanted to say, but instead, he shook his head. "No, Captain."

*

Jim was waiting for him on the bridge, still occupying the command chair. Walker was already long gone, making it clearly she didn't linger in places she didn't need to be, and that suited Leonard fine at the moment.

"So, how did it go?" Jim asked.

"Well," Leonard began, "that depends. I'm not sure if I'd rather run away screaming or collapse into a sobbing heap on the ground."

"That's progress if you're just considering your options," Jim said, not quite grinning, and patted Leonard on the forearm. "Don't worry, we're having a nice welcome home party for you tonight. You can get all your anxieties out there."

"So I've been informed," Leonard said, "and that falls under the 'running away screaming' category, if you must know."

"You'll get over it," Jim promised.

"You make it sound like I have a choice in the matter," Leonard said.

"Christine talked to you, then?" Jim asked.

Leonard allowed himself an exaggerated sigh. "Wherein she made it clear my attendance is mandatory?"

"What's a party without a guest of honour?" Jim asked.

*

As it turned out, calling it a party was something of a misnomer. It was, as Leonard realized after two hours spent staring at the walls in his quarters, more like a dinner between friends in the mess hall. That suited him fine, and given that most of the crew was still planetside, the room wasn't too busy despite the hour.

Leonard found himself actually enjoying the experience.

The party really wasn't about him, anyway, though his return was a much-toasted excuse. He had the seat of honour, but most of the conversation past the first two minutes, when he'd studied the texture of his napkin as Jim made a brief toast, had moved onto other topics. Scotty was making his introduction to most of the crew, and most people were also discussing what they'd seen on Centaurus.

Despite the relaxing nature of the evening, Leonard kept quiet. He sat with Jim on his left, and Christine on his right, and both were allowing him his silences as they talked with other people. There were moments of contact from time to time, as Christine touched his forearm, and Jim slipped a hand onto his thigh. He appreciated their efforts, but it didn't stop him from wondering if he'd ever feel a part of this.

"So what do you think of Jim finally wearing the gold?" Hikaru asked, leaning forward across the table with his elbows across the table. His dark eyes were twinkling with good humour, and he made a point of ignoring Jim as he spoke. "I don't think you saw him in it last time."

"I didn't," Leonard said, and despite appreciating the new tunic earlier, he still couldn't exactly say what Jim was wearing while they were dealing with Nero. He suspected it was the black undershirt the entire time, because that's what he'd replaced Jim's cadet reds with in the med bay. "I suppose it works."

"Yeah?" Hikaru asked.

"Brings out the highlights in his hair," Leonard continued, grudgingly because it was expected.

Jim laughed. "From you, Bones, that's almost a ringing endorsement."

"Well." Leonard leaned back in his seat and took a sip of his drink. Someone had broken out a bottle of something alcoholic, the name of which he'd missed, but it stung the back of his throat the way a good drink was supposed to. His limbs were beginning to feel nicely warm, which helped his shoulders relax. "What would you like me to say? You were drooling over it for three years, and if it weren't for that stupid stunt of yours, you'd have worn it last time, too. Would you rather I say something like it's 'bout goddamn time?"

"Don't worry," Jim teased, patting his hand, and then refilling his glass. "We'll get you used to people again. Try saying something positive, you can do it."

This time, Leonard made sure to smile with his teeth showing. "Don't you look all purty now, Jimmy."

Christine laughed. "Be careful what you wish for, Jim."

The banter continued, turning away from Leonard again as the subject drifted to something new. He sipped his drink, glad the spotlight was turned off for the moment, and watched the interaction in front of him. Jim was relaxed, but he was always social around people. He had a knack for meeting a new person and charming them into conversation. Everyone was comfortable around him, and that's what he was seeing, a camaraderie brought about by mutual service.

This could've been his, he realized, and that was a new kind of hurt. Looking at them, he could see how each one had changed during the last year. These weren't the kids he used to grumble about at the Academy, when he'd felt hopelessly older and unable to relate to them in their naïf enthusiasm. Instead, it was the confidence and maturity brought to them by their shared experiences, and that might've been even more alienating than before.

They'd grown up and created a family.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it might've been like to stay aboard and to grieve among friends. Maybe with Jim's support, he could've coped, but he also knew the limits of his own endurance. If he'd stayed, he really didn't think he would've survived, especially not with the Enterprise's current duty.

Then again, a part of him wondered if he was being too hard on himself.

Jim's hand pulled him from his thoughts, cupping his knee and drawing Leonard's attention back to the present. His blue eyes were concerned, and he leaned a bit closer to murmur quietly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Leonard said, nodding shortly as he reached down to grasp his hand in an easy grip under the table. "Just not used to so many people, you know?"

"You'll be fine," Jim said, which was true, and then he glanced over at the food dispensers. "If you need a minute, I wouldn’t mind some dessert."

Following his gaze, Leonard realized there was no one there. "You're just exploiting me for food."

"Well, a guy does what he can," Jim teased.

"Infant," Leonard sighed. "Fine, any preferences?"

"I think there might be peach cobbler on the menu," Jim said, "but after trying your sister's cobbler, I don't think the replicated stuff will ever come close."

"It never does," Leonard said, but the mention of peaches twisted his gut. He bit his lip, hoping the sensation would go away. "I'll see what there is."

He collected their dinner dishes in a bid to do something with his hands, and brought them to the recycler. He glanced back at the party, wondering for a moment if he'd even be missed if he kept walking all the way out of the room. The thought was dumb, and yet he felt himself relax when he saw Christine lift up her head, glancing his way before smiling in relief.

Well, that wasn't too bad.

He turned his attention to the dispenser, and browsed through the menu to see what options were available. Sure enough, he found peach cobbler listed, but given that peaches felt into the same category as bourbon most of the time, he wasn't ready to order it up – regardless of it being bad peach cobbler or not. He scrolled past, finding options meant for alien palates – maybe another night – but then he found pie. That would do.

He picked pumpkin at random, because it was the least offensive, and punched in an order for two. What emerged looked mildly suspect, prompting him to take a nibble from one to see just what he was in for. There was a certain pumpkin-like quality that seemed to be lacking, but there were spices to compensate and it was a hell of a lot better than peaches. He brought the plate back and set one in front of Jim.

"Thanks, Bones!" he said, tilting his face up to give him a brilliant smile.

Leonard mumbled that it wasn't a problem, and it wasn't, especially not with that grin of his and the tactful way Jim pretended not to notice he wasn't eating peaches.

He realized he was fading from the conversation soon after, as he sat back from his empty place, and tried to stifle a yawn when he realized Centaurus was set to a different hour than the Enterprise. His eyes watered for a moment, and then he realized that he was the centre of attention again.

"Tired, Doc?" Scotty asked from the other end of the table.

"Yeah," Leonard said. "I'm going to call it a night. It's good to see everyone, but it's been a big day and tomorrow's going to be an even bigger one."

Their good nights followed him out of the room, and so did Jim. They said nothing until they were in the lift, and once the doors were shut, Jim didn't even let him select his deck. Instead, he backed him against the wall and placed a kiss on his lips.

"I've been wanting to do that since we sat down for dinner," Jim confessed.

"Glad you could restrain yourself," Leonard said.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked a moment later.

Leonard let his fingers tangle with the hem of Jim's gold shirt as he considered the question. "Could've gone worse, I suppose."

"True," Jim said, and there was that stupid twinkle in his eyes again. "You know, I still haven't really welcomed you aboard properly."

And if that wasn't the biggest chunk of innuendo Leonard had ever heard.

"You're holding up the lift," Leonard chided.

"No, I'm not," Jim told him. "I know exactly where I'm going. You're the one who has to decide where you're going."

"And my options are?" he asked, because he suddenly knew he didn't want to spend the night alone.

"My place or yours," Jim said, with an exaggerated wink. "I'd recommend mine, if only because I've got booze."

That option sounded more than fine, and Leonard spent the rest of the trip wondering if Jim knew him a little too well if he thought he'd be swayed by the promise of alcohol. Of course he would, they'd only spent countless nights at the Academy sitting side by side and sharing a bottle of bourbon or whatever else either of them had handy. It was how they'd bonded in the first place.

He chuckled at the memory, and that drew Jim's attention. "What?"

"Just thinking that between the two of us, we've emptied more than a few bottles in our time," he said.

"I like to think of it as you showing me there's more to life than cheap rotgut," Jim said as the doors opened.

"If that's my only influence in your life, I guess that's a decent start," Leonard said, considering that for a moment. He paced himself to walk next to Jim. "Makes up for all the hyposprays I've stuck you with over the years."

"Well, at least it's a start," Jim admitted, and then they were stopped in front of a door with the name plate JAMES KIRK, Cmdr. He keyed in a code, and then he motioned for Leonard to go first. "Here we are, welcome to chez Kirk. Make sure to wipe your feet and make yourself at home. I'll go get the glasses"

He indicated the tiny seating area that was still bigger than the one in Leonard's quarters. Leonard watched him go to the cabinet, but then he found his attention diverted to the small collection of holos set next to Jim's desk. Walking over, he recognized pictures of Jim's parents, an exact copy of the one that used to be in their dorm room. There was a new picture of Jim's brother and his family, including a new nephew Leonard remembered hearing about but never seeing.

And, to his surprise, there was a picture of the two of them.

"Here,' Jim said, and pressed a glass of something amber into Leonard's free hand.

"What is it?" he asked, not setting down the image just yet.

"Saurian brandy," Jim said. "It's my new poison."

Leonard cautioned a sniff, and didn't find the smell too unpleasant. He tapped the glass against Jim's, and took a careful sip. The brandy burned the way it was supposed to, and he decided it was drinkable. As he took another mouthful, he saw Jim watching him, eyes sharp despite the alcohol as though he was assessing Leonard for something.

"I thought all of our pictures got sucked into the black hole," Leonard said, suddenly needing to fill the silence that had fallen between them. He knew the words were dumb as soon as he'd said them, but at least it made sound.

"Sam replaced all the pictures I lost," Jim said, which made sense, "and that one, of the two of us? I'd sent it to my mom at some point. She'd been joking that she thought this awesome roommate of mine was really make-believe. I sent her this to prove you weren't."

Leonard smiled at the image. "That's in the sequoia, isn't it?"

Their faces were squished together as they crammed themselves into the hollow of the ancient tree. Jim was laughing, and Leonard liked how his own face seemed open – probably for the first time in months, given what was happening in his life back then. Jim had the camera in his hand, poised awkwardly when the picture was snapped, and despite looking ridiculous, Leonard felt inordinately happy that this moment had survived Nero.

"That it is," Jim said, and he leaned in to put his chin against Leonard's shoulder, his breath warm and sweet. "I still don't believe that picture worked."

"And yet it did," Leonard said. He set down his glass, and turned within the circle of Jim's embrace to face him. "Thank you for coming to get me."

Of all the thank yous he'd uttered in the last day, this had to be the one he meant most. He followed it with a kiss. Jim pulling him closer into an embrace made it clear he was very welcome.

*

Within the first forty-eight hours, Leonard's life fell into a new pattern and he found he couldn't complain. He thrived on routine, and it was something he'd missed from his professional days before the Academy. His days now revolved around being in sickbay, spending time with the circle of people who seemed to orbit around Jim, and afterwards spending the night with Jim.

His own quarters, on the other hand, were as threadbare as the day he returned to the Enterprise. If he paused long enough to think about it, Leonard wasn't entirely sure what to make of that, but he found he didn't really care.

It also wasn't all that disagreeable being under Walker's command. She didn't take any bullshit, which he appreciated, and unlike the doctors he'd worked with at the Academy, there wasn't much about her reign he wanted to improve. For the most part, he was happy to let her run the show and follow her orders.

Sometimes he saw Christine watching him while they worked, and he could almost sense what she was thinking. Compared to his prior behaviour, he was being painfully polite and strictly professional. The only time he'd butted heads with anyone came after he treated a gaggle of engineers who'd come in with burns, and that was because they'd been tight-lipped about the cause of the accident.

"And, what, the machines just decided to splatter hot oil all over you?" he'd asked. "Contrary to what you might think, I didn't fall off a turnip truck. I know you don't get these kinds of injuries without poking in the wrong place. If y'all come back here like that again, I will personally make sure than each and every one of you get your full boosters regardless of whether you need them. Am I clear?"

They filed out like a line of guilty teenagers, and he tidied from their visit, he saw Christine approaching him.

"Now that's the Leonard McCoy I know," she said, helping him out.

"I've got this," he told her, and made a point of not meeting her gaze. "And I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't," she murmured, but didn't pursue the topic further.

It was another two days when Walker called him into her office. He'd just finished seeing a patient, a crewman reporting a stomach complaint, and Leonard was just about to administer his treatment when Toman, one of the junior doctors, appeared next to the biobed.

"Dr. Walker wants to see you," he said. "I'd be happy to finish this up for you."

Leonard cast a glance at Toman; he was another new addition to the crew, and there hadn't been much opportunity for the two of them to interact. They'd met during his first shift, and aside assuming the man was hired for his competency, Leonard had yet to form an opinion about him.

"Thank you," he said simply, and turned back to his patient. "Dr. Toman will finish up your treatment, and come back tomorrow if you're still not feeling well."

He wasn't sure what to expect when he walked into the office he'd once occupied. There weren't many signs of Walker's personality in the room, just her certificates on the. Leonard himself remembered thinking in one quiet moment, before the worst happened, that he'd make space for Joanna's drawings next to his desk. Walker was waiting for him, her face neutral as she leaned against the edge of her desk, arms crossed against her blue tunic.

"Doctor," he greeted.

"Have a seat, McCoy," she said.

Her voice sounded even, and didn't betray the purpose of the visit. He murmured thanks, and set himself on the chair set in front of her desk. He barely had time to put his ass on the cushion when she began.

"I thought it was time we had a chat," she said, leaning back against her desk a little further. "When the captain told me you were coming back, I admit I was a little apprehensive at the news, especially since you're in a position lower than CMO. I'm glad that doesn't seem to be causing problems, however, and from all reports you're fitting in well with the rest of the team. You're methodical, precise, and you've got a great eye for detail. I can't ask for more."

"Thank you," he said, "but to be honest, it's my own damn fault for losing the job. I'm just relieved there's a place for me here."

Walker nodded. "I do like the idea of having an executive officer of sorts. The reason I called you in, McCoy, is because I've also noticed that my staff – at least the ones who were here for the maiden voyage – are looking at you as though you're a zombie."

Leonard felt his eyebrows go up. "I'm sorry?"

"Call it whatever you want," she said, "but it's like they're not seeing the man they expect. I can understand where they're coming from. Whenever I heard the name Leonard McCoy in conversation, especially from Philip Boyce, 'amenable' and 'quiet' weren't the adjectives that followed."

"I don't really know what to say about that," he admitted.

"It seems to be you're trying not to rock the boat," Walker said. "Listen, when I took over, I had a talk with everyone in Sickbay. We've all just come through an unimaginably difficult time, and while it's hard and unfair to say that one person's grief isn't as valid as another person's, I also want to make it clear we've got to move past it when push comes to shove."

"Yes, ma'am," Leonard said.

That made her give a wry smile. "When you say that, I keep looking around for my mother. Anyway, I know you were keeping yourself busy while you were away, but working planetside isn't the same as a starship. You know that as well as I do. I need to know that if we have another emergency, you won't be compromised."

"I know myself," he said. "I won't be."

"Not even if we're evacuating a colony that's been attacked, and one of your patients is a little girl?" she asked, her voice calm.

Leonard had to pause. "I would do it. If I'm focused, I can leave my personal life at the door of the O.R."

"Are you sure?" She leaned closer, studying his face. "Because while we're supposed to remain detached from our patients, I think it's bullcrap. We bring our lives with us into our jobs, and it's what makes us human. What makes us better doctors, I believe, is how we can use that empathy to our advantage."

That had always been his thinking, and a significant part of his bluster came from that. Jim used to call him on it at the Academy, and he'd just grouch louder. Walker probably knew it, too, and she was calling him on his detachment. He sighed, and met Walker's intent gaze.

"I won't let you down," he said.

"Make sure you don't," Walker said, "and if you have even the slightest suspicion it might happen, you're going to see the ship's counsellor."

"Of course."

That seemed to satisfy her, and she got up to walk behind her desk. "Good, and now that I've got that off my chest, there's another item of business I need to talk to you about. I just received notice from the bridge that we're being ordered to assist in the evacuation of another colony."

The news made Leonard sit up. "An evacuation?"

"That caught my attention, too," she said. "Normally we're just providing the ultimatum that if they don't come with us, Starfleet can't be responsible for what happens in their absence once the neutral zone gets widened. We haven't had a lot of planets ask us ahead of time, but I suppose that's always a possibility. They can read the writing on the wall, after all."

There were details hinted in her comments that Leonard wanted to hear about, but he let it be for the moment. "So what's the plan?"

Walker sorted through her padds for a moment. "Well, our standard procedure is to have Commander Kirk organizing the exercise. That's been the way we've done it since we started and it's a well-practiced drill by now. I want you to stand in my stead."

"You do?" Leonard paused. "What would that involve?"

"It frankly varies depending on the colony," she said. "From the medical end, it's a pretty set list. We supervise the transfer of patients from any clinics or hospitals, and liaise between Sickbay and the doctors down there. It might involve overseeing that any controlled medical substances be accounted for and transported back here if needed. You'll get a clearer picture what's needed when you consult with the local medical authorities."

That didn't sound too bad, so Leonard nodded as he accepted the padd. "What should I be expecting?"

Walker paused for a long moment, contemplating her answer. "It was hard at first. Now that we're almost a year into this, less people are prone to disbelieving us, but that doesn't make them any less likely to want to leave. The longer they've been away from Earth, the more resistance they'll pose to the idea. Sometimes it's the colony leaders who make the decision unilaterally for everyone, but usually it's up to the adult citizens to decide in a vote."

"That sounds haphazard," he said.

"It is," she said, "and the first thing you learn is to respect their decision, even if you disagree with it on every level. That's partially why I'm not so keen on these missions anymore. I know why they're necessary, but I'd frankly prefer to coordinate them from up here."

That sounded fair, and then he voiced a question he'd often wondered. "How many people decide to stay on their colonies, even once they know the risks?"

"Too many for my tastes," she said, "and I frankly don't understand their choice. If it were me making a decision based on my family's safety and the ability to get help when shit goes down, I wouldn't hesitate to take them where I knew we'd be reasonably protected."

"With reason," he repeated, because after Earth and Vulcan, nothing was completely safe. "Most of the refugees I had occasion to meet were from colonies that had been recently settled. What are the people like who've been there for a while? How do they react?"

"Emotionally," she said. "They're attached to their home, and many – no, most of them are convinced they'll be perfectly fine on their own. They've built a new world, and they're angry we're trying to infringe on their rights by asking them to uproot again. That's why the emphasis on this being their choice is so important."

"Any advice on how to deal with that?" he asked.

Walker gave a sad smile. "Maybe we should take a page from the Vulcans, McCoy. They could teach us a lot about how to cope with illogical decisions from overtly passionate humans."

"But we're not Vulcans," he said.

"I know," Walker replied. "In that case, you're in for a shock."


	6. The New Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim likes having Bones around.

They were two days out from Centaurus when Jim realized he was genuinely happy.

 

He was in the middle of going through forms relating to their medical cargo and his thoughts strayed for a moment to the fact Bones was down in Sickbay. Where he belonged, was the immediate followup to that thought, and then how they'd meet up after their shift to hang out. It wasn't unlike their life at the Academy, and just highlighted again how much Jim had missed him over the last year.

 

And then came the epiphany.

 

Given how pleased he was already to have Bones back in his life, it wasn't that much of a revelation, but Jim allowed himself the moment to absorb the full meaning of his thought. He was probably smiling too, but given how he was facing his station, that wasn't a problem. The only person facing his probably sappy expression was himself.

 

That, he thought as he caught sight of his reflection, was probably a good thing.

 

*

 

“Dinner at Spock’s?” Bones frowned at him from the couch where he’d been reading. His brows pulled down into a furrow as he watched Jim walk past. “Tonight?”

 

“It’s a thing we do,” Jim said, and sat on the edge of the bed, pitching his voice to go around the corner to the living area. “Once a week, we get together for dinner. Not as captain and first office, though that’s sort of how it started. Nyota usually joins us, we hang out, sometimes we play chess, and it’s great.”

 

“And it’s tonight?” Bones appeared at the divider, leaning against the wall. He was in civvies, barefoot, and looking rumpled from a day in sickbay. His hair curled around the back of his neck, reminding Jim that he was probably supposed to say something about the non-regulation length, but he wasn’t in the mood to push. Not when it was just them, and besides, he was still thrilled by the idea that Bones came here when his shift finished, not to his own quarters.

 

“Yeah,” Jim said. He went to find decent clothes, and tossed a few items on the bed. “It’s a weekly thing, like I said, and since it’s a part of my life, I’d like you to be there.”

 

The truth was that while he enjoyed the dinners, he’d always felt like the extra wheel. Spock and Nyota – at once the Enterprise’s worst-kept and best-kept secret – were great company, especially now that they’d grown up and moved past early reactions.  Hell, the fact he was allowed to call her Nyota was a good sign of that. There were times when Jim would watch them and wish that he had Bones with him to even out the table.

 

And now he had his chance. Jim pulled out an extra shirt, one that fit loosely across the shoulders, and then glanced back to see how Bones was reacting. There was a faint smile, like he was pleased at the comment; he knew Bones and Nyota got on spectacularly well, which had driven Jim slightly to distraction at the Academy, but the connection with Spock was still a cipher for Jim. They were figuring each other out in this new context, though Jim sensed that Bones would play nicely for his sake.

 

“Fine,” Bones finally said, “but I don’t really have something suitable for polite company at dinner.”

 

In any other context, his slacks and button-down shirt would’ve been appropriate, but Jim understood the motive. He tossed the shirt over, and watched as Bones caught it inches before it smacked him in the face. “Try that, it should work.”

 

The shirt wasn’t quite the right size, but it was suitable for the moment. Jim changed out of his uniform, and before long, they were heading over to Spock’s quarters. He could tell Bones still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the invitation, but something about the tight-shouldered way he walked meant something else was likely on his mind.

 

“What’s with the face?” Jim asked.

 

“We should be bringing something with us,” Bones said, arms crossing over his chest as he walked. “It’s rude to show up without something.”

 

Jim waved it off. “In this case, it’s the company they’ll appreciate more. Trust me.”

 

“Like that’s ever inspired confidence,” Bones said, with a smile to take the edge off his words. “Maybe we should invite them to your place one night when Nyota comes back.”

 

That was one of the purposes of the evening, to see Nyota off in private before she left in the morning once the Enterprise rendezvoused with Garth’s fleet. Under normal circumstances, Jim would’ve been happy to leave Spock and Nyota alone for the evening, but she’d insisted on keeping their regular date and to include Bones as well.

 

“That’s a great idea,” Jim said, hitting the door notification once they arrived. “We can host them together.”

  
  


Whatever Bones might’ve said was quickly interrupted as Nyota answered the door, and as they were directed to the table, Jim could tell it was going to be a short evening. Spock was moving dishes to the table, and Jim went to help. He could see it was the usual vegetarian fare, with Spock’s own version of plomeek soup that he’d programmed into the ship’s food dispensers, and a big bowl of freekah mixed with squash, that was Nyota’s favourite childhood dish.

  
  


“Doctor,” Spock greeted, especially when it became apparent that Bones was hanging back from the table. “Please, be seated.”

  
  


The conversation fell into familiar patterns once they were serving themselves, and Jim took extra helpings of everything as he and Nyota shared some of the latest ship’s news. From the corner of his eye, Jim saw Bones taking careful bites of everything, and the freekah seemed to be more to his liking.

  
  


“Leonard,” Nyota said suddenly, drawing his attention from his plate, “how are you doing?”

  
  


Bones shrugged, setting his fork down. “I’m all right. It took a day or two to get my space legs back, but otherwise it wasn’t much of an adjustment.”

  
  


From her smile, Jim could tell she was remembering the first time they’d met Bones, with the rant of how terrible space would be. “That’s good to hear.  Is shipboard life everything you expected when you enlisted?”

  
  


That made Bones snort. “I didn’t expect much of anything, to be honest.  If you’d told me then that I’d be in space, I’d have laughed at you. At that point in time, I just needed somewhere to go, and Starfleet seemed the safest place to be.”

  
  


The moment the words passed his lips, Bones seemed to freeze, struck by the bare truth in his words. He looked over at Jim, eyes wide and pained, and Jim reached under the table to hold his hand.

  
  


To his surprise, it was Spock to filled the awkward silence. “I met with Dr. Walker today, Doctor, and she only had positive comments about your work in medical thus far.”

  
  


“That’s good, I suppose,” Bones said, the sudden praise breaking his mood. “She runs a tight operation. It’s almost like I’m back working in a hospital instead of Starfleet, and that’s far from being a bad thing, I think.” He changed the topic suddenly by pointing his fork at the freekah. “I haven’t a clue what that is, but it’s delicious.”

  
  


“It’s made from roasted cracked wheat and a lot of vegetables,” Nyota said, with a contented smile. “I based it on my favourite dish when I was a kid. It’s not quite what I’d like it to be, but that’s shipboard food for you.”

  
  


The unspoken, of course, came from acknowledging freekah wasn’t about to be made fresh anywhere else again, either. Nyota’s bitter twist to her lips said the same thing, and from the expression on Bones’ face, he’d caught her tone. He helped himself to another serving. “Well, compared to the rations I had to endure during the one training run I did at the Academy, this is like manna from heaven.”

  
  


That earned a chuckle, lightening the mood, but as the conversation drifted on, Jim noticed that Bones wasn’t contributing anymore. He was fixated on his plate, chasing after the last grains of freekah with his fork but clearly listening to the discussion. Spock noticed, too, and he set down his glass of water with an intent gaze.

  
  


“Doctor, you appear to have something on your mind.”

  
  


Bones glanced up, realizing the focus was on him again.  “I was just thinking that we’ve had such an emphasis on humans.  I barely saw anyone else on Centaurus, unless they were attached with Starfleet.  Have we had to evacuate colonies that weren’t completely human?”

  
  


It was a good question, and Jim only noticed with a bit of pride that Bones referred to the Enterprise as “we” even if he hadn’t been present.  That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  
  


“The colonies within the area of space we are evacuating are ninety-eight-point-four percent inhabited by humans,” Spock said.  “While there are colony worlds associated with the other Federation planets, most are located elsewhere and thus not within our zone of concentration.”

  
  


“But there have been occasions where we’ve had inhabitants who weren't human,” Nyota pointed out.

 

“Lots of times,” Jim agreed. “That tends to happen more when we're dealing with a Starfleet outpost, or if there's something on the planet that might interest the Andorians or Tellerites, or whoever else might be there. Usually it has to do with resource extraction. Anyway, once we explain the reallocation of supplies and the new starship patrol routes, they're usually quick to pack up and leave.”

  
  


“They are more inclined to leave than most humans,” Spock said.

  
  


“Because they’re more logical than most humans?” Bones asked, eyebrows going up.

  
  


“That was not the intention of my words,” Spock said, a little stiffly, “although humans are more likely to attach themselves to a place than other races.”

  
  


“Stubbornness has gotten humanity through lots of messes in the past,” Bones replied.

  
  


“And may have avoided many more if they had realized the magnitude of their actions,” Spock told him.

  
  


“Well, like they say, hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Bones said.  “I’m a doctor, not a historian, but you can’t judge people in the middle of a situation for knowledge they didn’t have at the time.  I’m not saying that the folks who sit on their rock in the face of everything right now aren’t being illogical, though I’d hesitate to use that word, but at the same time, they built the place.  They invested the time and energy into the planet.  Of course they’re hesitant to leave.”

  
  


“Again,” Spock said, “they do not realize the magnitude of their decision to remain behind.”

  
  


“I think they do,” Jim interrupted, not liking the rising tension around the table.  “If we’d done the logical thing every single time, Zephram Cochrane wouldn’t have made it into space when the Vulcans were charting our star system.”

  
  


“And speaking of Vulcans,” Bones continued, “has the Enterprise been there yet? To New Vulcan, I mean.”

  
  


“A few times,” Nyota said, but she was looking at him as though she was wondering where he was going with the topic.

  
  


“What’s it like?” Bones asked, looking around the table.  “My brother-in-law was more up to date when it came to developments in the Federation than I was, but he’d mention it a few times.  I know a colony got established, but that’s about it.”

  
  


“The decision came after humans decided to make Centaurus their new capital,” Spock said, “and choice was fairly... simple.”  He wanted to say logical, but was clearly choosing a word that wasn’t going to set Bones off again, and that didn’t sit well with Jim.  “The Vulcan Science Academy had established research stations on several worlds in the last several decades.  The planet ultimately chosen had conditions most like our home world.”

  
  


Bones nodded.  “Why call it New Vulcan, then?”

  
  


This time, Spock almost smiled.  “That is the name humans have given it.  The world has a name, but most humans would find the syllables difficult to enunciate.”

  
  


“Trust me,” Nyota added, “it’s a challenge even more me.”

  
  


“Well, that’s almost like an inside joke,” Bones said, “if Vulcans were inclined to make a joke, that is.  I’m curious, though.  I’m tired of hearing about humans right now.  How are the Vulcans coping?”

  
  


Spock paused, considering his next words.  “To be fair, I have spent most of my time with humans, but Vulcans are... coping.  I believe that is a sufficient way to express their efforts.  There is considerable pressure to not only rebuild Vulcan society, but a difficulty at this moment is the disparate nature of the surviving population.  We have many elders, but much fewer younger Vulcans.  The focus is now on restoring our numbers as much as possible, and as Vulcans have traditionally only produced small families, this is expected to change.”

  
  


“More than every seven years?” Bones asked.  “I guess there’s a small baby boom on its way, then?”

  
  


“You could describe it as such,” Spock agreed.

  
  


“Well, I guess that’s logical given the circumstances,” Bones said.

  
  


“Precisely,” Spock said, his tone dry, and Jim began to wonder at the pressures he felt from the Vulcan side of his family.  He’d never asked, and Spock wouldn’t necessarily volunteer that kind of information on a whim.  “It has been generally acknowledged by the new council of elders that my contribution is in the role of securing the Federation’s borders from future incidents.”

  
  


Nyota winced, reaching out to touch Spock’s arm.

  
  


“Well, we’re just a bunch of misfits, aren’t we?” Bones asked, with a sad smile.  “Makes for better company, anyway, in trying to save the universe.”

  
  


“That’s the general consensus,” Jim said, with a brief nod.

  
  


“And there wouldn’t happen to be any intelligence on Nero, would there?” Bones asked, looking from one face to the other.  When he met Jim’s gaze, he looked away after several moments, and sighed.  “Of course there isn’t.  How do we know he’s not going to come back and try to pick up where he left off?”

  
  


“He might,” Nyota said.  “We just don’t know.”

  
  


“Starfleet Intelligence, or what’s left of it, is trying to figure out where he went,” Jim added.  “I heard there’s someone or three under deep cover, but that’s just the rumour.”

  
  


“And what happens if he shows up again?” Bones asked.

  
  


There was silence around the table, and Jim was the first one to try to answer something he had wondered himself more than once.  “We don’t make the same mistakes as before.  We finish him off.”

  
  


It wasn’t much more than words, but the intention was there. For the moment, that was good enough.

 

*****

 

Neither one of them were tired when they got back to Jim's quarters, and they went to lounge on the bed while relaxing. Jim broke out the brandy, and they sipped while focused on their own things. Jim had a book out, while Bones was slouched with his padd balanced on his chest. They hadn't said much in an hour, and the sound of Bones shifting up into a more comfortable position drew Jim up from the page to watch him.

 

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

 

Bones didn't answer right away, and reached across to refill his glass. He waited until he was settled back down before speaking. "I'm still thinking about everything. What exactly is the strategy?"

 

"Strategy of what?" Jim asked, bringing his fingers to brush against the back of Bones' neck. He liked how Bones seemed to melt a little at the touch, and while his padd was deposited in his lap, Bones remained fixed on the topic.

 

"Why we need to evacuate the colonies," he said. “I keep thinking about it.”

 

"Oh." Jim paused in the stroking, and considered his next words. They were rehashing, but he also wasn't entire sure just how much of the bigger plan Bones knew about. "Basically, the surviving admirals decided that due to the small size of our fleet coupled with the unlikelihood that we'll be building more ships in the near future, we have to keep in mind the limits of our defence."

 

"How so?" Bones asked.

 

"The thought right now is that we don't want any colonies outside the defensible zone, as far as the Romulans and Klingons go," Jim said. "The calculation right now is that the ideal situation is to have a planet within a day's trip at maximum warp from several key spaces within Federation space."

 

"Like Centaurus."

 

"And a few others," Jim said. "Currently, there's good reasons in our immediate past as to why."

 

"Like the Laurentian system," Bones said.

 

Jim didn't need to see his face to know that his expression was darkening. "For example."

 

"And what's happened to the space where we used to have colonies?" Bones wondered.

 

That was where it got painful. "You know this," Jim said, but continued anyway. "We widened the buffer zone between us and the Klingons, especially given recent events. Same with the Romulans, though to be honest, we've got more planets on the Klingon side of the border. It just happened that way."

 

"And since we're not going to force anything on anyone, there are still planets full of people out there," Bones continued.

 

"Some," Jim agreed. "More than I'd like. We made it clear to them that we can't guarantee their defence anymore, or their supplies. Some of them are happy to go on their own, and others are just too damn stubborn."

 

"Where do the ex-colonists go when they're uprooted?" Leonard asked. "I know that the newish ones are sent to Centaurus, and I always assumed it was because they're not as set in their ways as other groups might be."

 

"More or less," Jim agreed, because that was his experience. "We consult with them, usually, and see where they'd like to go. Like you said, if they're new to the colony business, we take them to a more established place like Centaurus, and if they still want that frontier feeling, there's lots of places that want the extra hands in getting up and running. Sometimes, we get orders about where we're supposed to take them."

 

"Really?" Bones considered that. "What kinds of places might that be?"

 

"It depends," Jim said, and here he was getting uncomfortable. "Sometimes they go to some of the less lucrative colonies. They're still places that need help, but it's a better match than a society that's urbanizing more or less as we speak. The type of people who want to start a colony aren't interested in that lifestyle, so it's not too bad, I think."

 

"You don't sound convinced," Bones said.

 

"This is when I know you're a doctor, not a strategist," Jim said, with a smile he hoped looked more genuine than it felt. "I'm not as certain what we're doing is right. I know it's functional right now, but it's like we're creating two levels of colony -- inner and outer, and that's got an implication I'm not sure if I'm even confident about."

 

It was the first time he'd voiced it out loud, and it wasn't much of a relief to get it out between them. Bones seemed to sense it as he reached for Jim's hand. "Are you okay with that?"

 

"Am I okay with that?" Jim repeated, and shifted so he could see Bones' face a bit better. "Come on, Bones. Of course I'm not, and if you think I am, you're really misreading the situation."

 

"No, but I haven't heard much except for people wishing we were exploring again," Bones said, and again it was the interesting use of "we" that may have been inclusive. "Calm down, I'm not implying anything. I'm just trying to understand more of what I've stepped into. I mean, this isn't what we signed up for."

 

"What did we sign up for?" Jim asked, knowing it was a little theoretical. "I signed up because it wasn't Iowa and Pike dared me to be better."

 

"And I felt it was the only place I had left," Bones said. "Not that I had any idea what the hell that meant. It's just... what I did learn is that we're supposed to be serving the better good by being a part of Starfleet."

 

"A peacekeeping armada," Jim added. "That's what Pike described it to me that first time. Maybe an oxymoron in other periods, but we're supposed to be making the universe a better place."

 

"At least that was the working theory," Bones sighed, and took a deep drink of his brandy.

 

His own glass empty, Jim stole the remainder of Bones' and finished it. "The whole situation is just awful. Shitty, even. It goes against everything we were taught about the Federation. Hell, it goes against everything my dad died to defend, you know? But what are we supposed to do, Bones? We don't have the resources to do what we want. Would it be better to just give up because we can't treat everyone equally?"

 

Bones leaned across again to fetch the bottle, but went without the glass as he took a swig before handing it over to Jim. He coughed, wiping his mouth, before answering. "Of course not."

 

"Well, there you go, then." Jim settled, and somehow they'd now switched positions, with Bones lying back and Jim leaning against his shoulder. The bottle sat on the bed beside them, and Jim traced his fingers along Bones' chest as he continued. "We're making do with what we can, but it isn't enough. The people we meet... that's the worst part, I think. The kids, especially. They just don't get it."

 

"I know," Bones murmured. "I remember reading that from your messages. The pain was bleeding through the first time you evacuated a planet. I think that's the first time I tried to reply."

 

That was something Jim didn't know, and he couldn't help his eyebrows quirking. He wanted to ask more questions, but decided on a neutral acknowledgement. "That so?"

 

"Well, I started a reply, then reread it, and I remember thinking to myself that nothing I could say would be adequate," Bones said quietly, in a tone that usually meant he felt compelled to work the issue out. "I guess I talked myself out of it, and kept doing that every single time."

 

"That's too bad," Jim told him, and it might've been the biggest confession he'd made in a long time. "I wish you had. I think anything you could've written would have helped me. Even something you thought was stupid and inadequate."

 

He could tell Bones didn't know how to respond to that, but a few moments later, he heard a murmured "sorry" pressed against his head. Jim slid a hand up Bones' shirt, needing the close contact, and splayed his hand against his abdomen,and feeling the warm skin.

 

"Don't worry about it," Jim said, stroking gently. He reached for the bottle with his other hand, setting it aside, and then did the same with the padd. From the sound of the latter, it had landed on a discarded shirt instead of the deck. "I'm tired of regrets, and we can't look back."

 

"That," Bones said, "is almost poetic."

 

Jim smiled. "You should hear me when I'm not tired."

 

"I have." Bones smiled down at him with a slight twist to his lips. "I think the drunken version's more fun."

 

That deserved a pinch. "Everybody's a critic."

 

Bones slapped at him, but despite the interaction, it wasn't going to turn into anything more than physical banter. Bones was the first to yawn, and Jim felt himself beginning to follow a moment later. It was enough to make his eyes water.

 

"Tomorrow's a big day," Jim said. "Let's call it a night."

 

He got a mumble of agreement, and they settled down with the blanket pulled over them. Jim ordered the lights off, settling behind Bones, and realized he was getting spoiled by having Bones with him every night. He wasn't complaining, however, and he smiled against the back of Bones' head.

 

"Jim?" Bones asked several minutes later.

 

He stirred. "Hmm?"

 

"I just..." Bones waited for a moment, clearly struggling for words. "I didn't think that much about Joanna today. I did a few times, I mean, but it wasn't as constant as I used to. That's okay, right?"

 

The vulnerability in his tone was the kind that could be shared in the shroud of darkness. Jim wasn't sure how to reply. "Well, yeah, it's not like you're forgetting her."

 

"I won't forget her," Bones murmured in reply, "but I feel guilty about it anyway."

 

There really wasn't much Jim could in reply, except to hold him and be thankful that this time, Bones was sharing his problems instead of running. This was progress, wasn't it?

 

*

 

They rendezvoused with the fleet right on schedule, and Jim had the conn throughout the process of transferring materials and personnel over to the other ships. It wasn't the most exciting of tasks, but if it meant Spock could be freed to meet briefly with Garth and see Nyota off, Jim didn't really mind.

 

It almost meant he could be in the centre seat, and he wasn't going to turn down that opportunity. He loved the command chair, and how it was cushioned, just a bit wider than the way he liked to sprawl. Compared to his own very ergonomic and efficient chair, this one was meant to dominate the space and leave no question about who was in charge.

 

He thought he was well suited to it, actually. Spock never fully occupied the space, and was much more comfortable on his feet patrolling the bridge than perching on the cushion. Sometimes Jim had the feeling that Spock would be happiest back at the science station, but instead it was Chekov who had assignment during alpha shift.

 

A yeoman brought over the newest padd updating their situation, and as far as Jim could see everything was going according to plan. They were supposed to finish by thirteen hundred hours, and then they were off to the first planet slated for evacuation.

 

The sound of someone coming on the bridge inspired Jim to turn in the chair to see, and he was surprised to see Captain Decker coming out of the turbolift. He hadn't realized anyone from Garth's ship had beamed aboard, and yet, he wasn't that surprised to see it was Decker.

 

"Captain," he greeted.

 

"As you were," Decker said, even though Jim wasn't about to get to his feet. "I thought I'd take a moment to see what she looked like from the inside."

 

Jim wasn't sure about the comment until he remembered their earlier conversation about how Decker was supposed to have command of one of the Enterprise's sister ships. "Have a look around, then, sir."

 

With a faint smile, Decker strolled across the upper part of the bridge, and finally found his way toward the centre. "It's brighter than I imagined."

 

"You get used to it," Jim said, remembering the first time he'd skidded onto the bridge with Bones and Nyota in hot pursuit. For a moment, he'd felt blinded by the lights before he'd focused on Pike.

 

"I would hope so," Decker said, watching the view screen at the front of the bridge. "I looked through your manifest, Commander. I see you've gained a few crew members since our last conversation."

 

Jim looked up at him, and he knew where this was going. "We did."

 

"Montgomery Scott is quite the coup," Decker said. "Good engineer, but a bit impulsive. I suppose in that way he'll fit right in. I didn't agree with his punishment, but then again, I wasn't the old man. Archer loved that goddamn dog. I'd have busted Scott down a rank but kept him in service instead of exiling to that ice ball."

 

"He came recommended," Jim said.

 

"Did he?" Decker smiled slightly. "Well, that's good. How's McCoy liking the Enterprise now that he's back?"

 

Jim eyed him for a moment. "He's doing all right."

 

"That's good," Decker said, and pitched his voice a little lower so less people could hear him. "I don't know how you managed to find him so quickly, but I'm impressed. I'd be half-tempted to think you knew where he was the entire time, but I also think he means too much to you for that to be the case. We'll let that be, anyway.”

 

"Yeah, why don't we?" Jim said, shifting so he was sitting up a little more. He wasn't sure what Decker was insinuating, but he didn't like it very much. "Do you have a point, sir, or do I need to escort you off the bridge for getting in the way."

 

That wasn't what Decker expected, and he let out a chuckle. "Don't worry about it, Kirk. I admire your loyalty, though. Christopher said you don't give it easily, and I hope McCoy realizes that. I'm glad he's not a problem anymore, and that he's back on the Enterprise. We need everyone we can get these days."

 

It was a bit more casual than Jim was expecting, and he studied Decker for a careful moment. Not for the first time, he wished he still had access to Pike's counsel in order to ask him questions about Decker. He wondered what Pike would've said, although he had a pretty good idea. "We're all happy to have him back."

 

"Of course you are," Decker said, and looked around the bridge again. "I hope you don't mind if I linger around for a while. I promise to stay out of your way."

 

There was a wistful tone to his voice, and Jim found himself pitying him for a moment. They all were suffering from lost dreams, but Jim thought he could understand losing a promised command before he even had it.

 

"Do you think they'll ever build starships again?" Jim asked.

 

Decker paused, glancing around the bridge. "They will, Kirk. It won't happen for a while, but we do need to rebuild our strength again. Maybe we'll borrow the resources from one of the other member worlds while we get the Vulcan and human races set back up. One of our few senior officers is looking into it. Another year, maybe more. You'll want a command of your own by then, I'm sure."

 

"It's a possibility," Jim said, and tried to ignore the hope he didn't often nurture. It was still close to the surface, after his encounter with the Vulcan and the strange insight into another lifetime. He still remembered Pike's promise in Iowa, that if he finished the academy in four years, he'd have a ship in eight; well, he'd finished in three, and he'd completed his first year of service. He still had a few years go, and if Decker was right, they'd have more ships by then. Jim wanted the challenge -- he knew he'd be good, and if a mind meld could be trusted, he would be good -- but until they built more ships, he was stuck being the executive officer.

 

On the bright side, he was one who was currently sitting in the centre seat. That was all right.

 

"Maybe we'll both get a ship when the time is right,” Decker continued, a faint sigh in his voice. He looked almost envious as he surveyed the bridge again, but the expression faded as he smiled. "I'll be sure to recommend your name when the time comes, Kirk."

 

Jim murmured a thanks, otherwise unsure how to reply to his comment. He didn't need to think about it further, because Santora, the communications officer replacing Nyota on alpha shift for the duration of her secondment, drew his attention. He turned his chair to face her and nodded for her to continue

 

“There's a message coming through from Captain Spock,” she said.

 

“Put it on screen,” he ordered.

 

Spock's face appeared at the front of the bridge, and from the background, it looked like he was on Garth's bridge. Strangely appropriate, Jim thought, as he tried to gauge his captain's expression for hints of why he was calling. He could also see Garth off to the side, consulting with one of his officers, and ignoring the discussion.

 

"Things are progressing well over here," Jim reported. "The last estimate is that we should have everything transferred over in an hour. We'll be set to go shortly after that."

 

"There will be a change of itinerary," Spock said. "The fleet received an emergency beacon an hour before our arrival. There is a colony requesting evacuation."

 

That was unusual, but that didn't make it a bad thing. In fact, it would make things easier. It also meant he didn't have to watch Earth's destruction again. “Well, if this means I don't have to do my usual song and dance, I won't be too disappointed.”

 

“I thought you might think so,” Spock said. “The details will be coming through momentarily. Please make the appropriate arrangements I want us to depart immediately once the supplies have been transferred to the fleet.”

 

"I'll get on it right away," Jim promised.

 

"Captain," Decker interrupted, stepping closer to Jim as Spock's focus shifted to him. "I intend to remain aboard to observe the evacuation process."

 

Jim felt his eyebrows go up. "You are?"

 

"Only as an observer," Decker told him, looking at him pointedly. "My intention isn't to interfere with the process you've established. I'm only here to understand the situation and hopefully make some recommendations to equip other ships to undertake this task later on."

 

Well, that was good news at least, and Jim tried to ignore the hope it would mean the Enterprise would be released from duty and allowed to go about the real business of exploring space. He looked at Spock with a slight shrug. "I have no objections, sir."

 

Spock nodded. "Very well. I will be aboard as soon as my business here is complete. Spock out."

 

As the screen turned off, Jim turned his chair just enough to face Decker. He tried for a smile, and found it wasn't that difficult to get one that felt somewhat genuine.

 

"If you're here to learn, sir," Jim said, "then let's get you started."

 

Decker smiled. “Let's do it.”


	7. Beaming Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard joins the evacuation team.

"What the hell are you people working on down there?" Leonard demanded. "There were a ton of you in here yesterday. What gives?"

 

The engineer – just one this time – flushed but refused to answer. It was moments like these when Leonard remembered how his father used to joke that despite advances in modern medicine, it was the common cold and stupidity that made up the bread and butter of his practice. Even among the best and brightest Starfleet apparently had to offer that much was true, and Leonard was half tempted to throw his tricorder away in frustration.

 

With nothing concrete coming his way to explain the fractured ulna, Leonard sighed and reached for the bone knitter. Sickbay was otherwise empty, with Walker and other members of the staff down in the cargo holds supervising the transfer of medical supplies. It suited him just fine if he didn't have to go down there, even if he had to deal with the antics of Starfleet's promising ankle biters.

 

Chapel came in while he was finishing, an intent look on her face. "Doctor, Walker's coming back in a few minutes. She's going to want to talk to you."

 

"What about?" he asked, glancing up from the engineer's arm.

 

"We've got a change of orders," she said. "She's going to brief you about it as soon as she gets here."

 

That didn't sound too pressing, so he took his time explaining exactly how he expected his patient to care for his arm in the next few days. He arranged the equipment as the engineer hopped off, escaping from the medical bay as Christine chuckled quietly.

 

"I don't think I've seen anyone that nervous to be here since we were working in the campus clinic," she said. "I shouldn't encourage you to keep doing it, but it can't hurt. What's the story?"

 

"The hell if I know," Bones says, "but if Walker doesn't talk to the chief engineer, I might."

 

"Talk to Chief Schwartzer about what?" Walker asked, coming up behind them, but as Leonard opened his mouth to begin explaining, she waved a hand at him. "Never mind, it can't be anything I haven't already yelled at him about. Come on, I need to get you ready before we arrive."

 

Leonard rolled his eyes and followed her into the office. "What's going on?"

 

"Garth is sending us to a planet that's asking to be evacuated," she began, "and like I said the other day, that's a first for us. I'm actually relieved that's what we're facing right now, and even though they haven't told us much about the background reasons, it'll be an easier mission to ease you into the process. You never know how a colony might react to the news about the widening of the buffer zone, but at least this situation will get you familiar with the procedures."

 

He still had the list she'd given him the other day, and he made a mental note to make sure he had it with him when they beamed down. "So what do we know?"

 

"Just that it's named Alpha V," she said, "which doesn't tell me all that much. Though you tend to only know the main colonies and the really infamous ones like Tarsus, so that isn't all that much to go on. I do know we're expected there toward the end of alpha shift, so go do what you need to do before we arrive."

 

"I'll do that," he said. "Any last words of advice?"

 

"Just follow Kirk's lead," Walker said, and it took a bit of effort for Leonard to keep from smiling. That was the problem; he already followed Jim's lead most of the time. "He's got a good head on his shoulders, and I dare say, a way with words. And remember to keep me apprised of the situation down there so we know what to expect in case they have any special cases I'd need to know about."

 

That sounded easy enough, and besides, that was standard procedure during the drills they'd done at the Academy.

 

He finished up most of his shift in Sickbay, and after a brief stop in the mess hall, returned to his own quarters to change from his white scrubs. Before pulling off his shirt, he cued the computer to read out a brief description of Alpha V. He listened as he changed, but there wasn't much insight into planet's history except that it had been settled for thirty years and was mostly mining in nature with a bit of industry. Nothing extraordinary, but exactly the kind of place that appealed to the type of personality that thrived on challenge.

 

It did make him wonder at the forethought Alpha V's leaders had to decide to decide for mass emigration before they were even approached by Starfleet. He supposed the idea of being stranded on their own was enough to make many people nervous about the future, and better to get it out the way before something drastic might happen. It made a certain amount of sense, and as Leonard tugged on his blue shirt, he felt at least somewhat prepared for the mission ahead.

 

But first, he'd had to go through the transporter.

 

He wasn't sure how he felt about that yet, but he knew he wasn't that thrilled with the idea. Transporters weren't that common among civilians, and he'd gone through the experience once as a cadet. Back then, he hadn't been too keen on the idea of needing a computer to tear apart and then reassemble his body at their destination, and his dislike was probably a way of referring his fear of flying to something else. He knew the physics, in a general sense, and he knew he wasn't supposed to feel a thing during the process.

 

"What happens if there's a computer error while we're in transit?" he remembered asking an instructor.

 

"Are you familiar with the saying 'There but for the grace of God,' McCoy?" came the reply, and that hadn't eased Leonard's nerves in the least.

 

If he felt scrambled after going through the transporter drill, everyone would just tell him it was all in his head.

 

Everyone, that is, but Jim.

 

With a brief glance at Joanna's picture, almost for luck, Leonard slipped his medical bag over one shoulder, and put the strap on his tricorder to sling over his other side. He'd pick up a communicator on the way to the transporter room, and he wasn't going to need a phaser as this was a rescue mission. Despite the protocols, he wasn't too keen about having to carry one on an away mission, and it was a relief at not needing one for this occasion.

 

Hikaru was already in the transporter room, and it was only another moment before Jim joined them. A fourth man was tagging along, with captain's stripes on his sleeves, but with a badge belonging to another starship. Leonard blinked, not recognizing the man, and he looked at Jim with raised eyebrows. "We've got a guest?"

 

"An observer," Jim corrected, looking distracted. "Doctor McCoy, this is Captain Decker. He's looking into how we run the evacuations, but I'm still in charge of the operation. He'll help out if needed, but otherwise he's staying out of the way. Captain, this is Doctor McCoy."

 

"I recognize him from his file," Decker said, reaching out to shake Leonard's hand in a firm grip. "I'm glad to have you back in the fleet, Doctor. We need everyone we can get these days to re-establish the new normal."

 

"Right," Leonard said slowly, glancing at Jim, and only seeing an expression that suggested they'd be talking about this later. "Are we going, or is there anything else we need to know?"

 

"I have an update," Jim informed him. "I know you've been briefed on the situation, especially you, Doctor, but the situation's gotten a little messy. It appears we've had some kind of mixed communication with Alpha V."

 

"What the hell does that mean?" Leonard asked, while Hikaru didn't seem all that surprised. He was probably on the bridge when the development happened.

 

"Standard operating procedure is to hail a planet when we arrive in orbit," Jim said, "but when we did that, the administration seemed astonished to know we were there. More importantly, they're telling us that they didn't send for us."

 

"What?" Leonard frowned. "Didn't Starfleet say they received a message from them?"

 

"Our communications officer received it," Decker said, "and while it was text only, it's a request from the main administrator asking for an evacuation. It was sent two stardates ago."

 

"And yet they say they didn't send anything?" Leonard repeated.

 

"The text-only nature of the message makes me a little suspicious," Hikaru admitted.

 

"Me, too," Jim said, "and that's why we're going down now. I have no idea what they'll say, and we'll probably have to do our usual song and dance routine after all."

 

"Fair enough," Leonard said, even if he wasn't looking forward to this at all.

 

They went up to the transport platform, with Leonard taking his spot to Jim's left. It was a sign of how preoccupied Jim's mind must have been that he didn't check on Leonard to see how he was doing with the transporter, but Leonard wasn't too keen on drawing attention to himself at the moment. There was something about Decker that made Leonard feel slightly uneasy, and while he wasn't too sure he could put his finger on it, it was enough of a distraction to realize they were about to be transported.

 

It was about eighteen months since his last trip through the transporter, and he still didn't like how he felt. On the bright side, he was in one piece.

 

They'd rematerialized at the centre of a room that Leonard quickly identified as the council room, which had the same typical Federation style to it that Leonard recognized from Centaurus. There were three men present to meet them, and none of them seemed to be in hospitable moods. Two were a good two decades older than Leonard, while the younger man was about Jim's age. Despite the stiff set of their shoulders, they seemed politely curious.

 

"Commander Kirk," the oldest man greeted. "I'm glad to continue our earlier conversation. Thank you for meeting with us."

 

"It's my pleasure, Commissioner Evans," Jim said, with an ease that Leonard hadn't heard very often. "Before we do, may I present the rest of my team. This is Doctor McCoy, one of our senior surgeons on board the Enterprise, and this is Lt. Sulu, our helmsman. He's more than happy to go through the botanical samples you mentioned earlier. And lastly, this is Captain Decker, who's observing our proceedings and reporting back on them to our current fleet commander."

 

"Gentlemen," Evans said, only having time for a brief nod. "Everything in due course, but I'm a little more eager right now to show you that there was in fact no call made to Starfleet or the Federation."

 

"I believe you, sir," Jim said, "but that doesn't account for the message we saw."

 

"Come this way," Evans said, and turned on his heel to walk out. Leonard glanced Jim's way, noting the pleasantly neutral look on his face. So that's what he looked like when he was trying to be diplomatic, though the expression slipped a little when he caught Leonard's gaze.

 

Jim was perplexed, and he was trying to hide it from Evans and Decker.

 

"Where are we going?" he asked as they fell into step behind Evans.

 

"Our communications hub," Evans said.

 

Jim stopped walking so quickly that Leonard nearly ran into him. "I'd rather stay here to discuss the situation, Commissioner."

 

"What situation, Commander?" Evans turned to face them again, suddenly on the defensive. "I know the Enterprise has been involved in the evacuation of twenty colonies in the last eleven months, though I might be off on my numbers. The official policy is that it's been an exercise of the willing, but we're just within the boundaries of the new border. Why would we ever want to leave our planet?"

 

That wasn't something Leonard had thought to check, and he saw Hikaru also looking a little surprised at the news. While Decker wasn't easy to read, Jim was taking the news in stride.

 

"We've only taken those who wanted to leave," Jim said. "Frankly, Commissioner, most have agreed to come with us when they understand the situation we're facing."

 

"That Starfleet is unwilling to help those in need?" one of the other men said.

 

Hikaru stood up straight, shoulders stiff, but it was Jim who continued the conversation. "Believe me, gentlemen, when I say that I speak for everyone about how much we hate this situation. All of us took an oath to help all Federation member planets, and that we want to help every single group who's out there in their hour of need. The reality of the situation is that we know we can't be everywhere at once, and there will be more situations than not where we'll simply be out of range when a distress call comes in."

 

Evans looked at his colleague with a sharp look when the other man opened his mouth again. "We appreciate the difficulties posed by the current situation, Commander," he said smoothly.

 

"Current situation?" Leonard was speaking before he realized he'd opened his mouth. He felt Hikaru reach for his forearm, but he was past the point of stopping. "I don't think you're grasping the depth of the crisis. The Federation's entire infrastructure is gone. Earth is gone. Vulcan is gone. Everything that kept this lovely system of government going is gone."

 

This was why he'd never make a good diplomat, while Jim quickly stopped him from continuing by holding up a hand. Decker, on the other hand, was keeping his mouth shut tighter than a clam. "What Dr. McCoy means is that until we've got some measure of control back, everyone is going to feel the effects in the meantime."

 

Evans' gaze shifted between them. "Perhaps what needs to be discussed is Alpha V's needs as far as trade are concerned. That is, if you're certain that the need for an evacuation isn't in the cards."

 

"Only if you ask for it," Jim said.

 

The three men murmured together for a moment, and then Evans nodded. "Very well. Since you arrived in orbit, we've been trying to see where this mistaken assumption came from that we wanted to be evacuated. I expect a report when information becomes available, and hopefully that won't take long. As for our botanical projects, I'd be happy to send one of my assistants to accompany Lt. Sulu to the greenhouses."

 

Leonard shifted his weight from side to side. "Commissioner, I'd be happy to look through your medical facilities. If you decide to stay, I can see if there's anything the Enterprise could spare to get you by until you get your next shipment of supplies."

 

"That's a generous offer, Doctor," Evans said, and gestured to a young woman who'd stepped into the room while they were talking. "This is Jo Slayton. She'll be taking you to the greenhouse, Lieutenant, and she'll also make sure you're introduced to the Medical Officer of Health, Doctor."

 

"Report in every thirty minutes," Jim added, looking at them both. "Captain Decker will stay with me."

 

Decker didn't seem too upset with decision, and that suited Leonard just fine. He echoed Hikaru's acknowledgement, and they were outside a few moments later. Leonard had to squint at first, the sunshine brighter than he was used to even though he'd last been on a planet less than a week ago. At least Hikaru seemed to be wincing at the brightness, too, which made him feel a little better.

 

"What's the deal with Decker?" Leonard whispered to Hikaru.

 

"I'm not sure," he said. "He's Garth's executive officer, and I guess he wants to see how we make this work. I'm just glad it's Jim who has to watch out for him and not us."

 

That was an excellent point, and Leonard moved to fall into step next to Slayton. "How long have you been on Alpha V?"

 

"Not long," she said, and by her tone, Leonard immediately knew she was from Earth. It was in the way she looked away from them, and how her mouth twisted slightly in a familiar expression of grief. "I came here to work on the botanical project as soon as I left university."

 

Hikaru had the grace to keep the conversation going. "From what I was informed, you've managed to adapt Earth plants to the Alpha V environment?"

 

"Quite successfully, actually," she said, and brightened immediately. "Most of our colonies to date have only been able to have a limited amount of Earth plants and trees due to the limits of terraforming. Sometimes it's the chemistry of the soil being incompatible for those plants. I was hired on the premise that we could adapt even more plants for our environment."

 

"What have you managed to grow?" Hikaru asked, gaze intent on her.

 

"We've had our first successes with trees, actually," she said, and suddenly turned to the left. They hurried to keep pace. "I don't think it'll be a problem if we stop by our orchard first before getting you to the clinic, Doctor."

 

That sounded interesting, and Leonard shrugged to himself as he let Hikaru go first. He listened to them with half an ear as they discussed different breeds, splices and fertilizer levels, and instead looked at the colony itself. He knew from his research that there were roughly two thousand inhabitants, and it certainly had the feel of a small town. Half of the colonists had arrived for the mining, while another quarter were scientists like Slayton.

 

A population that size would probably fill the Enterprise's cargo holds, and occupy their guest quarters. He wondered what the Enterprise had done for situations where the population was twice the size of Alpha V.

 

The sight of the orchard pulled him from his thoughts, and Leonard couldn't help the smile. From the foliage around them, it was hard to tell whether it was early or mid-summer, but the moment Leonard smelled the ripening peaches, he knew it was even later than that. Late summer, and for a moment, he could imagine himself as a kid again at his grandmother's house, climbing the peach tree with Donna and gorging himself on fresh fruit until his stomach hurt.

 

"We found the apple and peach trees easiest to adapt," Slayton was saying. "We've got saplings for a cherry tree in our greenhouse, and we'll try transplanting that next."

 

"I didn't think there were peach trees anymore," Leonard interrupted, still in a little awe.

 

Slayton smiled at his reaction. "Our head researcher comes from Georgia. It was kind of a given we'd try with the peaches first in his case."

 

"Are they edible?" Hikaru asked.

 

"Go for it," she said. "We've adapted the tree to give us two yearly harvests, based on the elongated warm season."

 

So much for guessing the time of year, but it didn't really matter. Leonard plucked off two peaches, and handed the other one to Hikaru. He sniffed it carefully, and brushed the fuzz carefully with his fingers. It felt right, and when he took a bite, it was like getting a mouthful of home.

 

Almost, that was. Although the taste was right, there was still something not quite right about the flavour. It wasn't enough to distract him from the experience, he decided, and took a second bite.

 

Slayton was saying something else, but Leonard wasn't really listening. It was meant more for Hikaru's ears, anyway. He took another bite, enjoying the way his fingers were becoming coated with juice.

 

"Can we take a sapling with us?" he asked, interrupting them, but this was too important to put aside until later. He tried to lick the juice off his fingers, realized he looked about twelve years old when he did that, and relegated himself to wiping the stickiness haphazardly onto his pant leg. "Lt. Sulu has a botany lab, and this might go well with his collection."

 

Hikaru smiled at him, his eyes warm. "If there's any on offer, we'll take one for sure."

 

"We'll see what we can do," Slayton promised.

 

She took them inside a building briefly to wash their hands, but Leonard couldn’t bring himself to throw out the pit. He rinsed it off in warm water, and after shaking it off as best he could, found wonderfully old-fashioned paper towels to wrap it in. Once he was satisfied, he ferreted it away into his left pocket.

 

He had no idea what he’d be doing with it, but at the moment, it didn’t matter.

 

*

 

The clinic reminded Leonard a lot of the one on Centaurus, right down to the layout of the building and the smell of its interior. He almost expected to see his former coworkers waiting for him in the waiting room, but instead it was Dr. Marjory Lunde, the chief medic, who was very surprised to have a visitor deposited into her lap.

 

“You’re from the Enterprise?” she asked, eyebrows going up.

 

“I am,” he said, and introduced himself. “I promise I won’t get in the way. I just said I’d check to see if there was anything we could bring down for you from the Enterprise while we’re waiting to see what the hell is going on.”

 

“Right, the message you folks said you received,” she said. “Isn’t that strange? Is there any possibility they got it wrong, that it’s someone else asking for help?”

 

“I haven’t got a clue,” Leonard admitted.

 

She made a thoughtful sound, and brought him inside. “Well, I'm happy to show you around. The thing is, you've got us on a quiet day, not that I'm complaining all that much. We don't even have any complaining of a cold, come to think of it.”

 

“What do you normally see on a given day?” Leonard asked.

 

Lunde shrugged in reply. “Depends on the day. Given the demographics of our population, we're dealing mostly with work-related injuries as well as your usual coughs and sniffles when the weather turns cold. A few severe allergies, but nothing we can't handle. No one's over the age of fifty-five here, and there's only a handful of kids. All of them are healthy, luckily. I don't know if we could handle anything chronic.”

 

“Why no one over fifty-five?' he asked.

 

“Most people leave when they're done their contract,” she said. “We're a resource planet, so people come here, make their fortune figuratively speaking, and then head home when they're done. That's probably going to change in the near future. A few people have been here long enough they want to stay, and since most people came from Earth, well...”

 

That was all she had to say. Leonard managed a tight smile. “Here's as good as anywhere, right?”

 

“Something like that,” she said. “Even so, I can't imagine anyone just willing to pull up stakes right now. Not while there's an option to be had, anyway.”

 

“That's fair enough,” he agreed.

 

“What about you?” she suddenly asked. “With an accent like that, I take it you're from Earth?”

 

“Sure am,” he said. “Or was. I haven't decided on the verb tense yet. You?”

 

“My preferred verb tense or where I'm from?” she asked with a smile. “Present tense, and from Long Island. As long as I think about it, it's not gone from here.” She touched her heart with a sad twist to her lips afterwards. “Now, I can't quite say the same thing about my supplies, so it's good thing you did pop by.”

 

They went through the supplies together, manually checking even though Leonard was sure Lunde knew perfectly well what she had. It never hurt to double check, and the verification process killed time as they worked side by side. It reminded him of clinic duty at the Academy, and the hours spent in supply instead of working with patients; instead of resenting the task, he'd instead taken the time to get to know the other students. That's how he came to know Christine Chapel, after all.

 

Lunde was as thorough as she was easy-going, and within an hour, Leonard had a list to report back to the Enterprise. He stepped into one of the empty consultation rooms, calling up to the ship with his request to pass on the list to Walker. To his surprised, he was put through the Spock instead, who took down the information dutifully, but clearly he had something else on his mind.

 

"How do you think Commander Kirk is progressing?" Spock asked.

 

“You're asking me?” Leonard rolled his eyes, glad he couldn't be seen. “I don't really know, he's off with the administration talking over the situation.”

 

“I see,” Spock said. “How do you read the situation, then?”

 

“Hard to say about the average person, but it's not a place that would send out a call just because they're worried about things,” he said. “People have connections to the place. It might not be as strong as some of the other planets you've dealt with in the last few months, but I wouldn't be surprised if they're worried about being forced out of here.”

 

That didn't seem to surprise Spock very much either. “We are continuing our analysis on the ship, and I expect to hear more from Commander Kirk shortly.”

 

“Too bad Uhura's not here to lend a hand,” he said, careful to refer to her by surname. “She'd probably have it figured out by now.”

 

There was a hesitation so short, Leonard wasn't sure if he heard it, but then again, knowing Spock, that probably was the only acknowledgement he'd allow that he missed her. “We are continuing our analysis.”

 

“We'll come up with something,” Leonard said, and then something occurred to him. "Are we sure it came through the official channels?"

 

“That is what we were told,” Spock replied. “We do not have access to the original message, but there is no other source for such a signal in this region of space. Based on the time stamp on our copy of the message, it would seem to have been sent precisely fourteen hours before it was received. That could only have happened with a deep-space transmitter, and there is only one on the surface of Alpha V."

 

“Well, maybe there's another explanation.” Leonard frowned, considering the shelving in the room. “It might not be the most logical explanation, mind you, but maybe it's as a simple as a bored teenager hacking into the system. There's certainly a few of them around here, and there can't be that much for them to do on a colony like this. They think they're being smart when they're just being a nuisance.”

 

“Illogical, but taken under consideration,” Spock said, and it wasn't too much to stretch Leonard's imagination to picture an extremely well-behaved version of their captain who wouldn't think of mischief like a young Leonard – or hell, the epitome of teenaged hooliganism Jim Kirk. "To deliberately cause disruption during a time of crisis is illogical and dangerous."

 

“Tell that to the bored kids,” Leonard said with a wry smile. “Who knows, maybe we just can't see where the signal came from.”

 

“Another possibility,” Spock acknowledged. “Continue to apprise me of any developments, Doctor. Spock out.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, putting his communicator back on his belt. For a moment, he was tempted to check in with Jim, but figured that if there was a development, he'd get a call. He started back to the main part of the clinic, contemplating whether to stay with Lunde to go off in search of Hikaru, when it happened.

 

The building trembled, like the beginning of an earthquake, and Leonard pressed a hand against the wall, pausing, waiting to see if it would pass. But then the floor heaved, flinging him forward to crash into the opposite wall. The shock wave was immediately followed by a roar of sound and a blast of heat. It took a moment for the events to register, and Leonard brought up his arm, hopefully not too late, to protect his face as he slumped as closely to the floor as possible.

 

And then it was over.

 

He choked on smoke, and heard cries for help starting to come from the direction of the blast. Their voices were tinny at first, from the ringing in his head, and it only got worse as a siren cut through the chaos. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, and kept a hand on the wall for a moment as he assessed himself. He had a headache, but it wasn’t something that could stop him from helping. He had to support himself for his first few steps, but he headed anyway for the direction of the voices.

 

“Don’t go that way,” someone suddenly shouted in his face, grabbing his shoulder. He turned to see someone who was dressed in a medical tunic, but they grabbed him, pushing him in the opposite direction. “We’re regrouping outside.”

 

With a push, he stumbled his way out, blinking at the sunshine. He took a few steps from the building, and once he looked back, he saw black smoke billowing into the sky. There was a mass of people running toward the clinic, many carrying fire suppression devices. Leonard stepped aside to let them pass, and tried to make sense of the scene.

 

He spotted some of the medical staff staggering their way out of the clinic, but so far there was no sign of Lunde. His gut twisted at the thought, but pushed it away as he tapped one of the nurses on the shoulder. She whirled on him, her face covered with soot.

 

“What?” she snapped, and then she saw the uniform. “You’re Enterprise?”

 

“My name’s McCoy,” he said. “I was talking to Dr. Lunde just before this happened. Our Sickbay’s available if your facilities aren’t able to deal with all the patients.”

 

“Our facilities?” she repeated. “As far as I know, we don't have one anymore, so we'll take you up on the offer. Right now, we’re clearing the building. We don’t know how stable it is.”

 

“Where’s Dr. Lunde?” he asked.

 

The nurse looked around, searching for her boss, and if possible, looked even paler. “I don’t know. I think she was...”

 

Leonard didn’t need her to finish. “Start organizing triage out here. If you see one of my colleagues, they’ll help organize the beam ups. I’m going in to see what I can find.”

 

As she agreed, he pushed his way back inside while holding his breath against the worst of the smoke. He knew intellectually it wasn’t a great idea to go back in without protection, but he had to help get people out of the building. And while it wasn’t the time for déjà vu, he couldn’t help the memory of being back on the Enterprise during Nero’s attack. After coming from the bridge, he’d come in to find Sickbay devastated, the CMO dead, with only Leonard, some of the junior surgeons and the nurses left to take up the slack.

 

He just hoped it wouldn’t be the same here, and he let out a relieved breath when, unlike his experience of stumbling over Puri’s body, Lunde suddenly appeared in front of him. She was bloodied, but didn’t seem badly injured as she helped move an orderly who could hardly stay on his feet. When she recognized Leonard, Lunde’s face brightened for a moment underneath the grime.

 

“Glad to see you,” she said. “The clinic’s useless.”

 

That was putting it mildly. “There’s a first aid post being set up outside.”

 

“Good,” she said. “Listen, could you ask your ship –”

 

“We’re making arrangements to get the wounded up to the Enterprise,” he acknowledged.

 

“Then as you were, Doctor,” she said, and almost shoved her patient into his arms. He braced himself, glad his headache wasn’t worse or they’d both have ended up on the floor. “I’m going back in. You’ll coordinate from the outside.”

 

Given it was her home turf, Leonard wasn’t about to argue. He manoeuvred the man’s arm around his shoulders, and helped him limp back outside. They were going far slower than Leonard would’ve liked, but he wasn’t going to rush an obviously weakened patient. He felt the orderly slump a little more.

 

“Thanks for this,” the orderly said suddenly.

 

“Don’t mention it,” Leonard replied. “What were you doing when this happened?”

 

The man let out a weak chuckle. “I was changing a light. Fell off my ladder, blacked out, and the next thing I know, Doc Lunde was pulling me up despite my best efforts to stay on the ground.”

 

“Any idea what it was?” Leonard asked.

 

“I’m not sure,” the orderly said. “Wasn’t any of the pipes, and certainly wasn’t the energizer. It’s my job to stay on top of that, and I’ve got the paperwork to prove everything was in proper condition.” He grimaced suddenly, the pain seeming to get worse. “Had the paperwork, anyway.”

 

“We’re almost there,” Leonard murmured, trying to be encouraging, and then they were outside. In the time he’d been inside, there was a makeshift triage point at a safe distance from the building. He moved his charge in that direction, and deposited him on the first available stretcher.

 

There was a low boom from the building, the sound of something imploding again. Leonard winced, and then forced himself to take a deep breath. He could feel the adrenaline racing through his system, and he had to concentrate to keep his hands from shaking. Once he felt a little more stable, he sought out the nurse from earlier to report on having seen Lunde.

 

“Thank god,” she said, allowing herself the moment of relief, before returning to business. “Right now, I’m counting eighteen wounded, including three who are severely hurt. I’m expecting more as the rescue effort continues.”

 

“At least the clinic was empty when this happened,” Leonard said.

 

“There is that,” she said. “Also, your communicator’s beeping.”

 

“It is?” His hearing probably wasn’t still what it was if he hadn’t noticed the sound. He reached for his belt, realizing he should’ve called in as soon as he was out of the building the first time, but he had other things on his mind at the time. “I’ll make the arrangements right now for the Enterprise to take the wounded.”

 

The nurse nodded. “I’ll get them ready for transport.”

 

“Good,” he said, and then flipped open the communicator. “McCoy here.”

 

“Bones!” Jim’s voice blared out from the tiny speaker, his concern obvious. “I’ve been trying to call you for ages! Are you okay? We’re trying to figure out what happened over here.”

 

“I’m fine, I think,” he said. “As far as I can tell, the medical centre’s gone. Something exploded, and we’re evacuating the wounded as we speak. There aren’t any fatalities that I know of, but that might change. That means I’ve got to get off this channel to make arrangements with the Enterprise.”

 

“Do it,” Jim said. “I’m sending Hikaru over to help coordinate. Hang tight, okay?”

 

“What else would I do?” Leonard snapped, and regretted it immediately. “Any help will be appreciated, Commander. McCoy out.”

 

He cut the connection before hailing the Enterprise. He focused on the tasks at hand, first reporting directly to Spock and then getting transferred to Walker. He focused on the critically wounded first, giving a preliminary diagnosis before they were transported directly to Sickbay. Before long, there was an empty lawn where the wounded used to be, and as he closed the communicator with the knowledge he’d be sending more up shortly, he suddenly had to sit down.

 

“Doc?” It was Hikaru, lowering himself to sit next to him with a little more dignity than Leonard’s half sprawl.

 

“I’m fine,” he said, almost automatically. He shifted, and wondered what the lump was in his pocket. He prodded it for a moment, and remembered belatedly that it was the peach pit. At least that was safe, he thought, and smiled wryly to himself. “That was just... I’m not used to that anymore.”

 

“You did fine, and we’ve been through worse,” Hikaru said easily, eyeing Leonard’s face with growing concern. “Your face, however, looks like you’ve been in a fight. You’re bruising.”

 

“I am?” He’d been so used to his headache that he forgot he’d hit his face, too. He reached up to prod at unexpected tenderness, and the right side of his face suddenly ached in reaction. “Huh, well, I guess I was thrown by the shockwave.”

 

“Thrown in more ways that one?” Hikaru asked. “It’ll look great tomorrow. Purple’s your colour.”

 

Leonard rolled his eyes, and continued prodding his face. “So am I the only one who thinks this is slightly suspicious?”

 

“The coincidence between a mysterious message and an explosion on the same planet that said they wanted to evacuate?” Hikaru looked at the ruined building for a moment, and turned his attention back to Leonard. “Only slightly”

 

“I heard the sarcasm,” Leonard said. The worst of the bruising was along his jawline, where he’d probably impacted the hardest against the wall. He could feel his headache ramping up again, and went through his medical kit for the right hypo. He had enough analgesic for one dose, which he quickly prepared. “Everyone else is okay?”

 

“Yeah, only the medical centre was targeted,” Hikaru said. “Jim and the rest of the administration should be here soon. Do you need a hand with that?”

 

He was too tired to fumble with the hypospray, and handed it over without a second thought. “In my neck, and don’t stab it.”

 

“No, because that’s your department,” Hikaru said with a small chuckle. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“I’ll be fine when we’re back on the ship,” Leonard said, and after putting the hypo back in his bag, he carefully stretched. The pressure was easing for the moment, and he could focus clearly again. “Too bad you didn’t get to spend more time in the hydroponics building.”

 

“There’s still time,” Hikaru said, sounding optimistic. Their communicators beeped, this time the sound very clear to Leonard’s ears. Hikaru reached for his first. “Sulu here.”

 

“We’re on our way,” Jim said.

 

They were there a few minutes later, with Jim rushing toward them. His blue eyes were bright with worry, and though his gaze lingered on Leonard’s face for a few extra moments, he was back to business after the lapse. He also had Decker in tow, who eyed Leonard’s face with an expression he couldn’t quite parse.

 

“Report,” Jim said.

 

“Everything’s under control over here,” Leonard said, easing himself to his feet. He glanced around to make sure he wasn’t telling stories that weren’t true, but no one else was being brought out of the building. He suspected that if it happened, those would be fatalities, and he hoped there weren’t many. “Do we know anything yet?”

 

“Wait until Evans gets here,” Jim told him. “We’re still piecing things together, but we’re starting to get an idea about what might be happening.”

 

“I’ll bet it’s a thrilling story,” Leonard muttered.

 

Evans appeared a moment later, out of breath, though Leonard was willing to chalk that one up to emotions rather than health. The commissioner was tight-mouthed at the scene, and he nodded as he saw Leonard and Hikaru. “I’m relieved to see you’re both all right.”

 

“I took the liberty of having the wounded transported up to our ship,” Leonard said.

 

“That’s what Dr. Lunde said,” Evans replied. “Thank you.”

 

“So what’s going on?” Hikaru asked. “Was this an accidental coincidence, or something else?”

 

Jim's mouth tightened. "Yes and no. The message definitely didn't originate from the colony's communications system, and what's more, we've received a second one just moments before the explosion."

 

Frowning hurt, but Leonard couldn't help it. "Say what?"

 

"Someone issued a warning that there was going to be an imminent explosion," Jim said. "They didn't say where, or who they were, but from what we can tell, it looks like the same signature as the message Starfleet received."

 

"We need someone to do a forensics on that message," Hikaru said.

 

“Agreed,” Decker interrupted. “The problem is, your best communications officer is currently assigned elsewhere.”

 

“Convenient,” Jim said, “but we still have the best on the Enterprise. They’ll figure it out.”

 

Evans interrupted them. "Regardless, I still don't believe that one of my colonists would do such a thing."

 

"Why? What did the message say?" Leonard asked.

 

Jim met his gaze. "'Get out. Here's your first warning.'"

 

“Slight paraphrased,” Decker said, “but more or less what they said.”

 

Eyeing the two for a moment, wondering at the tensions suggested by that exchange, Leonard decided to ignore it. “The timing suggests they knew someone had come who can help them leave.”

 

“It’s not exactly a secret what the Enterprise does in Starfleet now,” Evans suggested.

 

“Yes, but what better way to push you to leave than to take out the medical complex,” Leonard said. “If terrorist acts are meant to be communications, that’s pretty much an open invitation to pack up and leave.”

 

“Which I’m not inclined to take right now,” Evans said. “There’s no reason for us to leave, Doctor.”

 

“I’m not suggesting there is,” Leonard said. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m just saying that whoever did this was a goddamn coward.”

 

Decker fought a smile. “Very appropriate, Doctor.”

 

“So someone wants you to leave the colony,” Hikaru said. “Who?”

 

“Not one of my mine,” Evans replied. “Everyone’s here by choice, or at least they were up until a year ago. Everyone’s employed, there’s prosperity, and while that might change now that we’re talking about making this a permanent settlement, no one has a reason to complain right now.”

 

“Well, it has to be someone,” Decker said.

 

Evans opened his mouth to reply just as their communicators beeped again. Jim reached for his first, flipping it open. "Kirk here."

 

"Spock here, Commander. Be advised that our sensors have picked up a fast-approaching vessel, of an unknown configuration. It will be in orbit in two minutes."

 

As a group, they straightened. Jim looked at Evans first, and then up at the sky. "What are your instructions, Captain?"

 

"We are unable to beam you up at the present time," Spock said. "There is a previously undetected buoy in orbit of Alpha V's moon which has activated, making our transporters inoperative. We've raised our shields."

 

Evans' eyes went round, his mouth falling open. "I... Captain, are you saying we are under attack?"

 

"I do not know," Spock said. "However, be advised that this situation is underway and I will apprise you when we know more."

 

There was a prickling at the back of Leonard's neck. He slapped a hand to the irritation, uncertain just what was causing the problem. He looked around, suddenly feeling like the area was coming into focus. They were a few hundred yards from the peach orchard, he realized, and whatever he was feeling, it had to do with something coming from that direction. He suddenly couldn't concentrate on what Jim and Evans were saying, and, despite knowing that he was being watched, took a few steps away.

 

Then he froze.

 

Joanna stood in the shade of a peach tree.

 

He felt like he was staring forever, even though he was blinking and wondering if he was mistaking another dark-haired girl for his daughter. Despite that, he knew it was her. He couldn't mistake her, with her little pointed chin and her green eyes staring at him solemnly. Leonard caught her gaze, his heart clenching, and he just knew suddenly what she wanted to tell him.

 

Danger.

 

"Doc?" He heard Hikaru coming up behind him, his hand heavy and real on his shoulder. "You okay?"

 

"We need to get to safety," he said, feeling slightly dazed and desperate not to turn away. He knew that the moment he broke eye contact, she'd vanish.

 

"Bones?" Now it was Jim on his other side, with Decker and Evans. "What's going on?"

 

It took every inch of willpower to pull his gaze away from Joanna, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep calm. "Think about it. First the medical building, and now this? Every single person on this colony needs to get to safety. All of us. Now. The Enterprise might not be able to hold whoever that is back."

 

Jim searched his face, frowning and not a little worried, before turning to Evans. "Is that possible?"

 

The commissioner nodded slowly. "Yes, there is an emergency plan but we've never enacted it."

 

"Then it's time to break it out," Jim said.

 

Evans moved away without saying a word, and Jim followed immediately. Leonard hesitated, though, and glanced back at the peach trees. Just as he'd feared, the space was empty now. He swallowed hard, and then at Hikaru's urging, fell into step behind the others.

 

He'd think about what this meant later.

 

*

 

The emergency protocol was based on a series of small bunkers and interconnected tunnels situated beneath the main section of the colony. The walls were made of something that looked like concrete, and there were heavy metal doors meant to withstand blasts while cordoning off the affected area from the rest of the complex.

 

"These aren't part of the Federation's usual colony design," Jim said when they were shown the plans.

 

Evans just nodded. "We didn't build them. They were already here."

 

“Who built them?” Decker asked, staring at the plans fascinated.

 

“We don’t know,” came the reply.

 

There wasn't time to discuss it further. There was a siren wailing away, and the bulk of Alpha V's population were winding their way into the shelters with some semblance of order. Leonard had to plug his ears when the siren began, the pitch too loud for him with his headache even despite the painkillers, but he couldn't escape the noise yet.

 

Jim finally took pity on him. "Bones, go ahead with Hikaru. There's a designated medical area, they could use all the help they can get if this gets any worse."

 

"What about you, Commander?' Hikaru asked, keeping professional despite the worry in his dark eyes.

 

Jim waved him off. "We'll be along shortly. Our communicators won't work in the bunkers, and I want to keep in touch with the Enterprise until the very last possible second."

 

That sound reasonable, and Leonard tried to push away his doubts as they left the council room. The nearest entrance was a few hundred meters away, and Leonard fell into line behind Hikaru as they joined the colonists making their semi-calm way down to the stairs.

 

They were a few meters away when Hikaru suddenly pulled him out of line. "Do you hear that?"

 

All Leonard could make out was the sound of voices and human bodies moving, but then he noticed that Hikaru was scanning the skies with a focused look.

 

"What?" he asked, trying to look around.

 

"I can hear something, but..." Hikaru's eyes suddenly widened, and he pointed to left. "At nine o'clock. We've got incoming."

 

Leonard felt his gut clench as he looked. There were four small ships descending toward the colony. He suddenly remembered being a kid, when some of his classmates would spend obsessive amounts of time memorizing the different makes of Federation ships and comparing the designs to the Klingons and other alien races. He’d learned more when he’d gone to the Academy, certainly enough to have a basic recognition of Starfleet’s designs in reference to other known designs, this definitely wasn't theirs.

 

It looked completely foreign.

 

"They're coming in too fast," Hikaru said, and suddenly moved away.

 

"Where are you going?" Leonard shouted after him.

 

"We've got to get these people in the tunnels faster!" Hikaru called back. "Stay there and get them in, Doc. I'll find you later!"

 

He disappeared around the corner before Leonard could pull him back. "Goddamn it, Hikaru!"

 

There was nothing he could do. He held his place, and guided the people in by urging calm and careful steps, all the while cursing impulsive bridge crew under his breath. It didn't take long for the last of the line up to climb down the stairs, and Leonard looked up just in time to see the first ship – sharp, black, small – open fire on the buildings off to the left.

 

Someone tugged on his hand, and he was suddenly stumbling down the stairs as the door was slammed shut behind him.

 

He could only pray that Jim and Hikaru were both safe.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a semi-WIP, in that the first draft is done, and I just need to do rewrites to make it publishable. Given that I'm in the last year of my Masters, this will be touch and go, but my goal is to have it published completely before Star Trek Into Darkness premieres in May. May god have mercy on my soul.
> 
> This story is a journey of its own. It began as a "5 Times Leonard McCoy didn't make it to the end of the movie" story, but this one particular segment wouldn't let me be. Thanks to the jim_and_bones LJ community, who let me put this on their "unfinished fics" feature a few weeks before Nanowrimo 2010, where the next 50,000 words were written. It took another year or so before it finally finished, and now here it is, almost ready before the next movie.
> 
> The people who have helped me with this story deserve more than a few words. Canis_takahari, who keymashed in response to my meaner moments; Sternel, who is the lamaze coach for this beast, and who might be one of the biggest gains from this experience; Kronos999 and our love of the darker sides of apparent utopias; Ayalesca for reading over the first draft and provided some amazing feedback; Enkanowen for the support over the years; Brianne for the final testing of the material before I post; Vimy, my roommate, who listened to my rambles with encouragement. There are others who I may not have remembered to thank, so if I didn't, it isn't that your contributions weren't remembered, it's just that grad school killed my memory. :)
> 
> Thank you all.


End file.
